Full blood
by GleeFantasy
Summary: A school for half bloods. Creatures whom are strong, brave, sagacious, vindictive yet purposeful, the essence of power. And then there are myths, tales that are as old as time.
1. Chapter 1

**Full Blood**

**AU.**

**No, I don't own glee.**

**Summary: A school for half bloods. Creatures whom are strong, brave, sagacious, vindictive yet purposeful, the essence of power. And then there are myths, tales that are as old as time.**

**1. Myth**

* * *

><p>The atmosphere was bleak, the gentle bustling had vanished and instead made room for coldness. The beautiful flamboyant birds flew from their places on the thin branches. Flapping their wings far away from their current surroundings. Pushing further within the sky, flying so fast, and so high that their body's became mere dots. Until they vanished and left the place they had been for far too long. Leaves that had recently made beautiful music with the breezy air, had silent itself. Showing only their colorful blades.<p>

The place itself had turned frightfully quite, nothing but the sounds of a baby's sobs seem to be heard. Nature itself seemed happy, but the two creatures couldn't say the same thing about the anger they have released by letting this particularly baby born. However, they couldn't just let it die or kill it, knowing that it is their own. No matter the rage and the battle they have released by now. It was thereby their own choices, own mistakes, by choosing to engage in an impossible love. If only they could've control their needs and hearts, perhaps then they wouldn't have to be in such a complicated situation.

A cold breeze crawled along the mother's arms, sending shivers down her spine. She took in a huge breath as if trying to steady her breathing, before wrapping her paramour's jacket tighter around her precious baby. The woman cradled her child back and forth, trying to silents it from it's audible sounds. She kissed her newly born daughter on it's temple, before letting her lips slide to her baby's ear. Opening her mouth she let a song from her heart engulf her child's hearing. Singing a song she had loved since the beginning of time. The mother knew that this song had eased her fears countless of times, and thus she tried to make her daughter's anxiety lessen by her words. The mother's heavenly fingers pushed her child's soft brown bristles from her face, making sure that the brown eyes the mother was staring into, could capture her face.

She shifted a few times, feeling the damping grass she was sitting on wetting her white gown. The wet coldness trying to enter her clothes and touch her tender body. Nevertheless, she shrugged away the lazy attempt of the water and clasped her legs beneath her body. As her arms enhanced around her baby.

A dark shadow seemed to come closer to her sitting body, bending to her eye height. It's fairly black hair falling concrete in front of his eyes and droplets of sweat following it's leads before landing on the damped grass. The woman gazed at the little drops of water falling from her paramour's face and disappearing in the grass. She enjoyed the sight she had before her, looking at the one she loved standing by her side during the hardest period of her life... Of their life's.

His crude hand came lying upon her cheek as he used his thumb to cherish the outline of her jaw. ''How are you feeling,'' he whispered softly, as his eyes fell upon his child. He smiled slightly at the picture before him. The woman he loves and the child she had brought upon this world.

''I am feeling better, Dustin.'' She sighed, ''I am just a bit scared.'' Her lips trembled, as her eyes connected with the concerning gaze of the man she loves. ''She has been born, and now they will surely find us. We can't run anymore.'' She bites the inside of her cheek, trying to suppress her tears. Knowing that it wouldn't be long before her strenght would give out and the tears would surely set themselves free.

''They will not come near you or my child, that I swear!'' He held her cheek a bit more forcefully. ''I will protect you, and our child. No one will get her, not so long I'm alive.'' He kneeled before her, his hand leaving her cheek and coming upon his child's head. ''I will do anything to protect you. If it was not true I wouldn't have left the underworld for us, would I?''

She nodded, ''I know. But it's just,'' she sighed. ''Now that she has been born, it will not take long before they'll feel her presence. And I don't think that running will help our situation any longer. I also highly doubt that you can prevent this engagement from happening. It will, Dustin. And I don't think I can live with my self if they... Hurt her..'' Her eyes began to sting, tears threatening to come poring out. Though she still refused to cry, she doesn't think that keeping a hold on her tears will work forever. And as an Angel of her caliber it would be a weakness if she were to let herself weep, and she doesn't want to show any more sin's then she already has.

''Stop saying such foul words, Shelby. We will fight this, together.'' She always admired his determination, he never seemed to give up even if the chance of them succeeding seemed less then thirty percent.

''How do you expect us to fight hell and heaven together. And also with the assistance of Shannon?'' Shelby cradled her young daughter calmly, her fingers dancing through the short smooth hair clumps. ''We have escaped them now, but it will not take long before they find us. Our baby is already sending in a signal without her knowing it will be her death. Her energy is already starting to circle around this universe.'' She shook her head, ''I refuse to let her die Dustin. I have tried too hard to keep her save. Therewithal we are mere two creatures against a thousand, perhaps millions. How in the world can we defeat them?'' Shelby already felt her hope diminish. Her fate hanging on a lose thread. However, whatever may happen today, she would rather die then let her child decease as an innocent creature. Or fall in the hands of evil.

''You must have forgotten that I am; Dustin Coolsby, the Devils _former_ right hand. I am as powerful as all demon's combined.'' He smiled triumphantly, ''and you my dear lover, are the Angel of light. No Angel can overcome your strenght or your wisdom.''

She nodded, but doubts that her wisdom was still intact. For if she was as smart as he aughts her to be she would have never fallen for a demon. Or even have gotten impregnated of one. ''I know, but they are with more. And no matter how strong we may be, we can't fight all of them at once... Five may attack you, but you will not see who's at your back.''

''Quality above quantity.'' He whispered.

''Perhaps..'' Shelby eyed her brown haired child, ''we haven't named her yet.'' She whispered, as her mind started racing through various sorts of names, but none seemed to fit her child appropriately.

''Oh, yes, I almost forgot.'' He took his hand of his child and laid his index finger on his chin. ''What about.. Elizabeth.''

''No!'' Shelby began, ''our child does not look like an Elizabeth.''

''Yes she does. Her nickname could be.. _Beth_.'' He nodded frequently. ''Such a name would be perfect. _Beth.. _Doesn't it flow of your tongue like it does with mine?''

''No, it doesn't,'' she shook her head, still reflecting which name would be best for her young daughter. ''It has to be a name that is beautiful, yet known.'' She gazed back at her child. ''How about, Rachel.'' Her precious baby seemed like a Rachel to her. A name that somehow concluded happiness, yet potency.

''I still say Beth, but if you do like the name. We will go with it. Everything for you.'' He leaned back, as he laid his hands upon his knees, using his full body strenght to pull his self up. ''Though, I say, we ask another person to help us with the name choosing.'' He turned around and eyed his naturally surroundings. Searching for the one person whom was not biased between neither of their shapes or history. Particularly his history. One who had followed them during their journey of love and freedom. She may be an Angel, and was therefor different from him, but she had not chosen to end his child's life as the other Angels would like to see happening. But contrary stood fully behind Shelby's decision to raise this child to her expectations as a reverence, pristine child, yet powerful. Perhaps still having the darkness roaming through her veins from his prenatal side, but using her powers for the greater good.

He therefor, had chosen to follow the road of the woman he loves because that was the only way he could keep her. And still be a part of his child's life. Although he might still have his dark times, and he still had that voice inside of his head, telling him to take the child away from it's mother's hand and bring her to her rightful place in the underworld. He kept his self in restrain, and he knows that the only reason he was still holding his self strong and on both two feet was because of the woman whom had just hours ago brought a child to this cruel world. Not even caring that the official existence of this child has brought war.

Dustin wouldn't say this out loud, but if it was not for Shelby, he wouldn't care less about the baby. He somehow thinks that the only reason that she's still with him, is because of this child. Thus he would do anything to keep the baby, just so he could keep the woman he loves.

Nonetheless of his feelings about the child, he couldn't fully strike away the side of him that tells him that the child will destroy his relationship with Shelby.

He can't let that occasion take place.

''Shannon!'' He yelled, stepping a bit forward. ''Can you come here?'' Dustin turned around, looking for a sign of the brown haired woman. He turned his eyes to slits as he gazed upwards, seeing a figure coming closer. The body flying high above the trees, with wings that were as white as the clouds itself. Her wings clapping loudly against each other as she flew with every thrust closer. Her body flying down to their current insertion.

Dustin knew that she wasn't one of the prettiest Angel's he has seen in his lifetime, but she was one of the kindest and goodhearted and therefor, in the words of Shelby; _'She is, one of the most beautifulest of Angel's I have ever laid eyes upon, just because of her heart.' _He thinks that her statement has been nothing but the truth, for this woman had believed in him when he said that he loved Shelby and would do anything for her and the child. Even though if his statement wasn't entirely true.

''You have called?'' Her eyes searched the face of Dustin, but as she gazed above his shoulder she saw Shelby sitting on the ground, holding a young infant in her arms. ''You have giving birth to a baby? But how- why don't I know about this already.'' Her eyes widen. ''To be precisely.. Why haven't you called me!'' She ran closer to the newly mother, completely dismissing Dustin's call. For all she cared about was the well being of Shelby and the baby.

''I am fine.'' Shelby gave her a soft smile. ''And she is fine too.'' She monitions to the baby. ''Dustin had called you, because he had a question for you. But seeing as you ignored him I will ask the question.'' Shannon kneeled before her. ''What do you think about the name; Rachel? Dustin wants to call her Elizabeth, but I prefer Rachel. What do you think?''

Shannon smiled, ''Rachel, is _perfect_.'' Her eyes gazed at the young baby in her arms.

''Do you want to hold her?'' Shelby loosened her grip around her child.

''Yes, I would love too.'' She extended the baby to Shannon whereby she took her gladly. Wrapping both her arms around the child. Her left hand holding the back of her neck as her right hand held her waist. ''She's so beautiful.'' Shannon felt herself astray in the brown eyes of the gorgeous baby. Staring at the face of a harmless little soul. Shannon had decided right there and then that she had never seen anything more beautiful or precious.

Dustin on the other hand stood still on the same spot he was standing at, when calling Shannon. He turned around as he stared at the two woman, both seemed so glad of the miracle they have experienced. He gazed at the eyes of his beloved paramour. Her happiness glowing along her features. Her lips curved up, showing of her beautiful high cheekbones. He found that she had never seemed more happier.

A strange nauseating feeling started building up in his stomach, he tells himself that it isn't jealousy. That he isn't jealous of his own child who is the cause of his paramour's happiness.

He walks forward, his gaze never removing from his daughter, as the feeling in his pit builds up when hearing his lover giggle.

''She really is beautiful.'' Shelby puts her hand upon her baby's head.

''Yes, she looks just like you Shelby. Just as pretty.''

Shelby smiles, her eyes somehow beginning to feel the excitation of her tears. ''She seems to smile if I sing her a song.''

''Perhaps she likes music,'' Shannon reacts, while her eyes kept fixated on the baby.

''Perhaps..'' Shelby stay's quite for a second, staring at her daughter in Shanon's arms. ''Rachel,'' she softly whispers enjoying the name rolling of her tongue. _''Young girl don't cry, I'll be right here when your world starts to fall..''_ Shelby closes her eyes, pressing her eyelashes tighter against each other. Her lips moving slowly as she sings the song that seemed to calm herself when she was feeling grief. _''Young girl, it's alright. Your tears will dry, you'll soon be free to fly..'' _Her fingers moved slowly on Rachel's forehead, her thumb tracing her cheek. Feeling her cheekbones turning upwards, she started singing slightly louder. _''When you're safe inside your room you tend to dream.. Of a place where nothing's harder than it seems.'' _A little giggle escapes Rachel's lips. Shelby opens her eyes as she stares at her little child, enjoying the sound she produces. _''No one ever wants or bothers to explain, of the heartache life can bring and what it means.''_

_''When there's no one else, look inside yourself. Like your oldest friend just trust the voice within.'' _Shelby hears another voice join in during the chorus, their voice blending extraordinary nice. Shannon rocks Rachel back and forth, as she also starts singing with Shelby. Noticing that Rachel was smiling the prettiest smile Shannon has ever seen, has ensured her to participate with the singing. _''Then you'll find the strength that will guide your way.. You'll learn to begin to trust the voice within.'' _

They stop singing and instead just keep watching the little girl who's smile seems endless. A smile that in a strange way seems to give them both the feeling that everything is possible, and that the world has countless of possibility's.

''Shelby, you do know that keeping her is going to be dangerous.'' Shannon removes her eyes from Rachel and gazes at Shelby. ''She's not just a child, she's an junction. A clash of darkness and light. There is no way that she will be save among you and Dustin.''

''I thought that you supported our choice.'' Shelby replied bitterly.

''I do,'' Shannon sighed. ''I still do, however, they will find her. And I suggest that you come up with a plan, fast. That can guarantee your safety, Dustin's safety and Rachel's. Or perhaps, maybe.. There is another solution.''

Shelby looked back up. ''And that is?''

''Maybe you have to consider giving her away... For the time being. Give her to somebody you trust, and when she's old enough she may come and find you.'' Shannon swallowed. ''This way you at least no for sure that she's alive, then having to risk her security.''

Shelby wiggled uneasy, ''I can't just give her away,'' she looked down, staring at her folded legs beneath her. ''How do you expect me to go on without my child. I have done everything for her, and now you ask me to give her away?''

''..Yes. Unless you wish her dead.''

This sentence had ensured Shelby to start reflecting upon her choices and options. Perhaps, Shannon was right and this may be a good idea to precede.

If only she had it in her to give away her child. ''To whom may I give her then.''

Shannon shrugged, ''I don't know.''

''How can I make sure that the others don't find her, if I'm not near her to protect her from harm?'' Fear had once again adopt over her body. ''What if I give her to humans and she will follow their lifestyle, and within the years she starts developing her powers. What will the humans think.. What will she do?''

''Perhaps you should give her to Shannon..'' Both woman cupped their heads to the voice behind Shannon. ''If we give her to Shannon she will have someone who she knows. And Shannon can make sure that we meet her again.''

''You stand behind her decision?'' Shelby asked her paramour.

''Yes. I do, for this is the only way that we can keep _Rachel_ save.'' His voice had a bit of contempt inside it, but it went unnoticed to the two woman. ''And on earth there are several of creatures whom are _different_ just like Rachel.''

''Those are half bloods!'' Shelby practically screamed. She didn't want to lash against him, but she didn't want to lose her child either. It all in all angered her. ''Rachel is different, she doesn't come near their strenght because she's far more powerful... And far more dangerous.'' She whispered the last sentence softer. Curiously still not fully believing that her child is partly evil. ''It's just,'' she sighed shaking her head. ''She will not fit in. Rachel will not learn her original roots.''

''She will if we send her away with Shannon and we can live our life's, _together_.'' He walked around Shannon, stepping to his love and taking her hand as he knelt right next to her. ''You are the Angel of light, no matter what. And you can make sure that no creature will find out who she is, or where she is.''

''My spells are not that powerful Dustin.'' She turned her head to her baby, looking at it with hopeful eyes.

''But they are strong enough to keep her save for several of years. And with Shannon beside her she can reinforce the spell, making sure that it will last for another couple of years. Rachel will then hear about her roots, and find us when it's time.''

''I don't know...'' She kept her gaze focused on her child. ''What do you think Shannon? Since you would be the one guiding her.'' Shelby watched her friend's face expectantly.

Shannon stared at both parents, trying to find the humor in their statements but seeing none. She swallowed away her anxiety and rein-focused her eyes on the child. She gazed at the outline of the baby's lips. Looking at the brown eyes that were staring deeply in hers. Then she thought about the strenght the baby carried and what it could do with the right hands and right methods. The various of possibility's where endless... ''It would be an honor.'' She answered. Not even regretting the choice she had just made. ''I will watch over her with my entirely life. And will make sure that she will find you and Dustin.'' Dustin cringed at the thought of meeting his daughter again. ''She will learn her powers, and I know just the place she can. When she's older.'' Shannon uses her thumb to touch the little visible skin of Rachel's pols. The soft feel of her flesh burning on her fingers. ''I will raise her as my own.''

''Thank you,'' Shelby said, before standing up. But as she did this movement she felt something push her back down. Allowing her body weight to fall back to it's original state on the land. Not only was she already weak due to the giving birth to a child, she then again had to feel an enormous strenght push her back down. One that she hadn't felt in a long time. It seemed as if the power that had pushed her to the land was asking her- no demanding her to stay where she is. For something she wasn't ready for, to occur.

''Are you okay?'' Dustin held her tightly around her shoulders, giving her the support she needed to keep from falling down. He somehow didn't even seem to care about the wings he had just pushed aside to reach her shoulders.

The blood in Shelby's head seemed to leave it's place, her body stirring slowly. She tried to keep herself in a hold, but failed miserably. The stirring of her body accelerated itself faster. And the empty feeling in her head didn't seem to help either.

Shannon stood up, holding the baby tightly, as she also started feeling an unsought presence, she walked to Shelby's back, looking ahead of herself to see is she could spot a face that wasn't needed here or welcomed. She revolved her head as she looked around her body, gazing around nature to find something, anything. However, hoping that nothing was here and that the sensation of jeopardy would leave.

Unfortunately, she heard Shelby voice her fears.

''They are here.''

* * *

><p>''All three creatures feared the worst. The females only caring about the safety of the child, whereas the male wanted to protect his love. For that is what he cared for, and only that.'' Mr. Schue placed a paper at the last page he was reading from before placing the book back on his desk. He shifted a bit, feeling his butt ace due to the very long sitting on the wooden desk. ''Are there any questions?'' He continued as he asked his class, as a purpose to find out if any of his students were at a mist at a certain part of the story.<p>

Will sighed, eying his pupils as he waited for words to desolate their lips. He was therefor their history teacher and answering questions was part of his job. Teaching them about the past and sending music into their hearts was part of his job too. However sadly none seemed to show enough interest.

''I still don't understand why we have to hear this story.'' A female blond muttered from the back corner. She had her head on top of her hand as she leaned upon it. Vertebrae encircling her.

''Because Quinn..'' Will sighed, not understanding how he could still teach his students a meaningful lesson if none seemed to put their full concentration to it. ''As a half blood you have to know these certain things. Not knowing about the past, and what has happened not long ago can inflict damage in our current timing. Knowing more about it, can help you understand how to deal with the emerging proceedings.''

''I thought you said that it was a myth.'' His stubborn Latina pupil reacted. Will simply nodded. ''And myth means fiction, right?''

He sighed once more, starting to get irritated to explain the same meaning again. ''Yes, Santana you are indeed right. It does mean fiction.'' Santana smiled proudly. ''However, it has been written by people who seemingly want us to believe it. Some say that they try to scare us with their mostly, well.. Scary tales. But that doesn't mean that it isn't true. It means that we have chosen to see it as fiction. And if you look at the kind of people we are, and at the school you participate in, you can see that fiction has become reality.'' He smiled at Santana as he saw her face redden. ''If our fiction has become real, who say's that these stories aren't?''

''I still don't get what we will learn from this.'' Quinn straightened her back on her chair. ''What are we suppose to understand. The only thing we hear about is a little girl who has a mother who's apparently an Angel and a father who's a Demon... _And_ actually I have to say that the mother is really stupid for falling for a Demon.'' Quinn rolled her eyes visibly. ''She was asking for problems by getting pregnant.''

''You can't choose who you fall in love with Quinn.'' Kurt reacted from his place two rows next to her. ''I doubt that a woman who's apparently very strong and wise, would choose to fall for a Demon. Her heart had fallen within love, and Dustin seemed to be the one to capture her heart.''

''I have to agree with Kurt,'' Finn perked his head up. Which was just seconds ago lying on his table, trying but failing to stay awake. ''She's like the Angel of light, and that is really huge. I really don't think that she would just pick a Demon and fall for him. That means losing her position and like, being a disgrace and all. Nobody wants that.''

Quinn glared at Finn, her lips turning into a thin line. Not even expecting that the long boy would disagree with her. ''Number one Finn, you were practically sleeping. How in the world do you know what we're talking about.'' Finn just smiled his crooked smile. Causing Quinn to roll her eyes again. ''And two, you only chose Kurt's side because he's your stepbrother. Brothers always stick together.''

''Perhaps,'' Kurt backed in, ''however, it doesn't take away the fact that we can not control our feelings.'' He pulled his hand up eying his nails from a little distance. ''Besides look at me, I'm gay. Do you think I have chosen to be who I am?'' Quinn shook her head, hating it that she had lost this discussion.

''It's sad, though.'' Sam responded who's sitting in the middle of the class room. ''I mean, for the baby. She's like, really little and all of a sudden her life changes. And she can't do anything about it.'' He sighs. ''The girl is barley a day old and they have already decided that she must die, not even knowing who that kid will turn out to be.''

''And that is it.'' Will jumped from his desk, standing in front of his class. ''It isn't about what she contains, but who she will turn out to be. Such a story is important for all of you to know. Because all of you are different, like her. And humans will judge you because of what you are not even knowing which kind of person you have turned out to be. Just like the girl in this story. She will be judged because of her father, and her mothers faults. And will live with it for the rest of her life.''

He eyed all around the class, letting his eyes stop at Quinn. ''Therefor you guy's have to know this story, for you are going to deal with it or have dealt with it before. Being condemned without people knowing who you will become.'' He stepped back towards his desk taking the book and holding it tightly. Raising it up for all eyes to see. ''Tomorrow we will continue with what happens next, and how it has changed that little girl's life.''

''Wait, Mr Schue.'' Mercedes piped up from her place behind Kurt.

''Yes Mercedes?''

''What about her dad? Did he like, accept her in the end and it all worked out fine?''

He smiled sadly. ''Not.. Exactly... That is for tomorrows lesson.''

''Do you think it really happened?'' Sam asked this time. ''The story I mean, is it true?''

Will merely shrugged his shoulders. ''We exist, why not them?''

At that time the bell rung, signaling the children that the lesson was over and that they were free to go.

The students stood up and pushed their chairs against the table, as they all strode out of the room. Sam seemed to walk slower then the rest, his mind somewhere else then the freedom he has just gotten. He seemed to still have his mind in the same lesson.

''Yo dude, keep walking.'' His friend Puck came behind him, putting his arm around his shoulder. ''I heard that Marie Anderson is going to try and break into Principle Figgens office.'' Puck grinned. ''Remember the last time she tried shit like that.'' Puck seemed to dwell into the memory. ''She transformed in a desk, because Figgens was getting a new one. But she hadn't thought about the desk he had ordered and which color it would be.'' He's shaking his head, and grinning widely. ''She so got busted when they saw a desk that was wearing a dress.'' He chuckled. ''Seriously she could at least put her clothes off if she wants to do shit like that.''

''Uhm, yeah dude.'' Sam didn't seem to listen to the story, his mind was still preoccupied with the tale they have just heard. ''Do you think that you can fall for bad, when you're like, not bad?''

Puck shrugged, ''I don't no man, but Kurt was right. We can't choose the ones we fall for.'' He shrugged again, pulling his arm away from Sam's shoulder. ''Now lets go, I don't want to miss Marie's epic fail.''

Sam laughed, ''yeah dude, you're right.'' Sam stopped in the middle of his walk. ''We should probably wait for Finn too.'' Sam was always one to think about his friends and keep himself reminded to hang out with all of them. He once had a relationship were he didn't give enough attention to his girl, but more to his friends. She had told him to divide his self over all of them and not give one more then the other. They eventually broke up, but he thought that she was right when saying that statement.

''Dude has already ditched us, I bet he's the first one there.'' This had Sam on full running mode.

''I'll race you there,'' Sam said halfway through the hallway.

''That's no fair dude!'' Puck screamed before following Sam, promising his self that he would overhaul him later on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Full Blood**

**AU.**

**No, I don't own glee.**

**Summary: A school for half bloods. Creatures whom are strong, brave, sagacious, vindictive yet purposeful, the essence of power. And then there are myths, tales that are as old as time.**

**2. Scars are everlasting**

* * *

><p>She feels darkness penetrate her body. Voices all around her screaming, <em>yelling<em>. Clashes of metal hit each other letting the sounds roam through the air. Vague body's hold their grounds, trying not to fall under the enormous pressure they feel. Yet some seem to weaken and lose control. As result, falling.. The ground being their only substantiality as their heartbeat stops and their heads hit the land. However, during their time of what seems as fighting, she sees herself. Blood dripping from her head.

Her body feels cold, and her bones seem to shiver. It feels as if death has taken over her body and hostage her soul. Yet she's still alive and well to see a dark shadow stand before her. It's hand that had seemingly just struck her. Solely it didn't touch her face, instead it released something she has never seen before. Darkness she presumes, for all she sees is blackness. And all she feels is pain, leading her whole body to feel numb by it's will, by somebody or something.

Something had done this to her, not knowing who or what it is. Doesn't even know where she is, the world being too vague, to be seen. However, her body soon starts revealing itself, pronouncing her presence, young and little. Her features shining through the dark, vaguely, setting. Her figure just small enough to fit in a person's arms. Just cute enough to let a human smile, and light enough to not notice you're carrying her. Innocent, is the best word to define her.

Nevertheless her innocents, she still has been attacked, badly, awfully. The pain shooting to her core, burning her with just a swift movement.

It hurts, badly. Her head hurts, and everything in her body seems to stiffen under this kind of _power_. She wants to cry, and scream. Wanting to reveal her troubles, and she tries, she's doing it. Her lips open and she screams, hard. The blood leaping in her mouth, sliding down her lips and stopping at her chin. More seem to fall with it, pushing the rest of the blood that laid upon her chin to her neck. Sliding slowly, weakly, along her neck. Itching her, but she can't seem to scratch it, she can't seem to do anything but cry.

And she screams louder, harder. Begging for someone to help her, but no words seem to get out. She's too tiny, too unknown in this world to show her pain, clearly. Crying is her only way to communicate. Words are out of the question.

She can't see the causer of her pain, but she does see it's eyes. It's face grisly vague, just like the rest of the people around her. It's rage blackening it's pupils. A cold sensation leaving it's body, it's eyes. And with mere a tiny look she can already see those eyes showing it's mere insides, it's soulless body.. Or even anesthetic. The eyes relating it's pain, anger and hurt. All that seemed to be directed to her, allowing her to ask herself why something like that would be so malicious against her.

Was she truthfully the one who let it rage like this?

She doesn't know the reasons for it's actions, or the raging battle at the background. But she knows one thing, one feeling that can never go unnoticed, the feeling that will go by with her through the path of life, the journey she's bound to take, and somehow feels real. She calls it pain. It's a sentiment she desperately wants to escape, but it doesn't matter how hard she tries or how much force she puts in herself to run away, she is still tangled at the same spot. Detained on her current place.

And she tries wiggling her arms, moving them everywhere. But it seems to have no effect. She tries crying, even talking. But the words don't seem to get out. The sentences she wants to reveal to the world refuses to egress.

However, they rather declare themselves in screams.

* * *

><p>Heavy breathing inflate the once silent room, screams following it's lead. Rachel shudders under the severe pressure, sweat leaking from her pores as she snatches her eyes open. She feels her clothing stick against her body, the wetness oozing through her shirt. She breaths in and out, her heart unequally beating and too fast for her health. She grabs her forehead tightly, sensing that the pain is still present.<p>

It's just a nightmare she tells herself. It's just a dream.

She parts her lips slightly, letting the air escape her mouth and invade her room. She tries to hold herself steady, hoping that if she thinks of peaceful things that she might come to ease once again. But no such thing seems to happen, instead fear has found it's way in her, and doesn't seem to want to part ways just yet.

She positions herself on her bed, pushing her body up with her hands so she could sit on the mattress. Rachel grabs her blanket tightly, making sure that it wouldn't fall of her body and land upon the floor. She's too frightened to stand up, and letting her 'safety barrier' fall down would mean that she has to do the thing she fears the most. Thus she pulls her blanket up to her neck holding this close against her skin. Fearing that something might attack her, and that the blanket is the only thing that can protect her from harm.

Since she was a little girl she has had the same need to use her blanket in this particular way. Therefor she has made this as her habit, every now and then when a nightmare would occur, she would use her blanket as her protection. Rachel knows that a thin cotton dean wouldn't stop a bullet or any other painful object, however, it still seemed to ease her fear just a bit. She always felt the need to have something upon her to make her become less discernible.

Rachel closes her eyes, but fears to fall back to sleep. Scared that the nightmare would once again feel authentic, and seemingly real, even though if it isn't.

She keeps telling herself it isn't.

Her heartbeat finally decelerates, and the room once again roams in silence. She opens up her eyes. Hearing mere her breathing levitate in the room, the only sound to not go unnoticed. It haunts her.. _Taunting_ her and letting her remember what just occurred in her dreams. And therewithal her head still hurts. Aching her up to her core. She remembers the fortitude hitting her head, passing through her skin and touching her cranium, implanting itself on her flesh. Revealing then a thin open wound, a scar. Rachel felt her untouched skin unfold, screeching softly, however, unheard for the others around her. But loud and clear for her young tender ears.

She keeps asking herself how a dream can do such a thing to her, and make mere a fantasy feel so real.

According to her psychiatrist her seemingly real nightmares are mere frictions of her imagination. He has told her that the mind falls so deeply in it's dreams that it starts thinking that it genuinely happens to it's body. When it actually doesn't.

Rachel doubts that his words are correct, however hopes that he is right.

She hears soft footsteps coming up, with every pace becoming louder. Rachel knows that her fathers have awaken, fully tired of doing the same routine every night. But still doing this just so they can check up on their daughter. Showing her their eternal love. She therefor doesn't even judge them for coming up when her outcry's have long ago died down. In their defense they have done this way too often, and have heard her cry out the same things, over and over again. Mostly about the same dream.

Sooner or later weariness would adopt their body's by doing the same routine every night.

Allowing them to come and see if she's well, when they definitely need sleep makes her feel like a hypocrite. As if to say; _'If I go down, you will come with me'_ and indeed her fathers do.

She wishes they didn't though.

When she was younger it was worst. Rachel would frequently cry for hours before she would stop, telling her fathers about the pain she felt, the things she saw and everything that somehow felt too real to be ignored. Her dreams had gone so far that she had one day awaken with blood upon her head (ask her psychiatrist if that was mere a friction of the imagination). At the same specific spot of her very foreseeable scar. Liquid dripping from the previous healed mark, stinging her with all it's might. Rachel thinks that every time her scar opens or ache's her that it's symbolizing her something. Maybe her dreams contain memories of the past, perhaps something deeper.

If only she knew a thing or two about her past, or anything that happened when she was born. However, no one would ever remember it's birth. Something like that is too big to be remembered by a small child who has yet to discover the world. And yet to have a fully evolved brain.

But why does she then behold herself in her dreams as a newly born? Experiencing a moment she has never known about. She was, before, too young to remember such a large occurrence, but still gets dreams of herself when she was merely a day old, perhaps a week. And that is nearly impossible, no- _it is impossible. _Perhaps it's her mind making things up and playing tricks on her.

Though if that was the case, she wouldn't still be getting the same dream over and over again at the age of sixteen.

Rachel desperately wants to believe that her nightmares are mere nightmares, and that the psychiatrist her fathers have sent her to, which she has been visiting for over a year now, is right. However, she can't commit herself to believe such a statement.

Even if she tried.

Her door smashes open, a ray of light entering the once darkened room. She gazes at the vehement lightning, letting it burn her sight. She barley blinks as she then focuses at the two body's. Two honorable parents wearing striped pajamas. Both seem to be very tired and neither look at all too worried about the daughter who's currently curled up in her bed.

Her face is pale and her eyes slightly dark, her structure looks weary as she sits beneath her blankets. Strangely the whole scenario doesn't seem a bit intriguing for the two fathers.

''Did you have another nightmare, honey?'' Her daddie Leroy walks up to her bed, seating his self by her toes. He smiles gently at her, assuring her that he does care. ''You want to talk about it?'' Rachel's shorter father Hiram walks around her bed seating his body next to hers. He puts his hand on her head as he strokes her dark soft hair, letting his fingers grace around her long strands.

''Yes, I am fine.'' She swallows tightly, ''It was just a nightmare.. Again. But I assure you that I'm okay.'' She forces a smile, determined to let her fathers leave. Rachel knows that they can't help her in this matter. Knowing that she can barley help herself, she doubts that another can do it better.

''Do you want us to make another appointment with Dr. Stephen?'' He refers to her psychiatrist, ''you don't have to go to school either, if that is what you prefer most.''

Rachel shakes her head, ''Thank you daddie, but I will go to school.'' She considers if it would be a good idea to go to Dr. Stephen. Maybe going to him wouldn't help her situation, it never has. But she finds it nice to talk to somebody about her nightmares. Rachel believes it's better to talk about it, then to hold it in and let it eat you alive. ''I think it would be a great idea to talk to Dr. Stephen, perhaps I need somebody to discourse with.''

Hiram smiles, ''are you sure you don't want to talk to us about it? We might help you better.'' He stops stroking her hair as he waits for a reaction.

''I- No.'' She shakes her head. ''I do have a question.''

''Anything.'' Leroy say's.

''When I was younger..'' She bites her lip, ''I had asked you and dad where I had received this scar I have. But neither of you seemed to give me a proper answer.''

''We had told you that we didn't know.'' She nods. ''As you know honey,'' Hiram continues. ''You are.. adopted, and we don't keep any secrets so this isn't anything that is new to you. Although, when we had gotten you, you had that scar.'' He points towards her forehead.

''I thought it was pretty cute.'' Leroy laughs softly. ''It made you look different then the others.''

''Thus, neither you or daddie knows how this has befallen upon me?'' She gazes at the two fathers beside her.

''Sadly, that is the truth. But if we did knew we would have told you. No one wants to have something on their skin that would probably have happened due to an accident, and not know how it precisely occurred. We assumed that your birth mother or father dropped you on the head.'' Hiram pauses. ''Why do you ask sweetheart?''

''I just- I think I just wanted to know a bit more about it. That is all.'' She brushes their question of without giving a further explanation. ''I think I can sleep now daddies.''

Both fathers stand up, casting her a last smile.

''Maybe you can ask Shannon Beiste about your scar.'' Leroy says as he walks towards the doorway. ''We remembered that according to the adoption papers she is like your, auntie. Not biologic though.''

''If I may ask daddie. Why didn't Shannon adopt me but had left me for adoption?'' Rachel hopes that they won't assume that she was trying to offend them by taking her in their home. She thereby loves them with her whole heart. For her, in her eyes they are her only real parents despite not having the same blood.

Although they didn't seem offended at all. ''No worriers honey,'' Leroy stops at the doorway, Hiram standing right next to him. ''According to Shannon she would love to still be a part of your life, that's why you see her nearly everyday, at your school, here at this house. However, she said and if I recall her words correctly, she had said that she would rather want you to have a normal life. And she didn't think she could provide for that well enough.'' He shrugs, ''of course we took her proposal gladly, if we could just have you in our arms.'' Leroy smiles, remembering Rachel when she was just a few moths old. ''You were so cute and little, and we loved you at first sight.''

''Just like now,'' Hiram adds.

''Yes, just like now.'' Leroy smiles. ''Does this answer your questions dear?'' Rachel nods. ''Good, then try to get some sleep. It's good for your voice, and we all know that you wouldn't want to try anything to jeopardize your chances at becoming a star.''

''Yes, you are certainly right. Good night daddy. Good night dad.'' Both fathers bid their good nights as they leave the bedroom, closing the door behind them and taking away the only light that had enter within her room. She gazes at the door, looking at it as it closes softly. Leaving her once again alone.

She pulls the blankets of her body, feeling the cold air impinged her skin, blowing it's soft breeze through her still wet clothes. She pushes her body to the edge of her bed and lets her legs dangle above the floor. She takes in a deep breath before letting her feet touch the save floor beneath her, feeling the soft carpet between her toes.

Though she can't deny the fear that has come upon her by making this movement. But having decided that she will go to school in the morning, this motion is needed.

Her head still hurts, still aches. Her forehead burns, still feeling the pain from her dream shooting through her brain. She knows going to school like this, will only provoke questions. And thus, to leave all that aside, she has to, must, walk to her bathroom and grab a few aspirins that may help her with this struggle. And keep the questions aside.

She steppes away from her bed and walks towards her bathroom door. Putting her hand on the door handle before pulling it open. She steppes inside of the room and closes the door behind her.

She's walking directly towards the mirror, staring at the reverberant glass, smiling at her. Mimicking her features on it. She stops right in front of the mirror. Looking at it, looking at herself. Gazing back at her facial expression, the weariness haunting her features.

Her fingers grace upon her cheek before roaming upwards. Going deliberately slow. Her nail itching her on it's way to her forehead.

Her index finger stops at the right side of her head, pushing away the strands of her pony. Slowly, baring her forehead completely. Her finger shifts an inch to the right, touching the scar with merely a finger. Pushing just a bit on it.

She gazes at herself in the mirror as her finger mimics the line on her forehead. Touching the mark softly. Closing her eyes she thinks of the pain that came upon her in the dream. The fortitude, hitting her, aching her. Feeling, so, _so_ real.

Rachel shakes her head viciously, the pony falling back on it's place and hiding the scar, once more. ''You can't do this to yourself, Rachel.'' She's looking back at her reflection, at her pale contrast. ''Don't condemn yourself like this. It's just a mark, nothing more.'' Her lips quiver, her mind disbelieving her. ''There's nothing abaft a scar.''

She stands on her tiptoes and opens the cabinet, searching with her eyes for the aspirins needed. Her hand pushes away multifaceted of pharmaceuticals before finding the ones she needs at the back. She takes them out and closes the cabinet. Going back at standing on both her feet.

Her fingers take out two little aspires out of the box. The white drugs haunting her little palm, eating her vision.

Her head cups back up to the mirror, eyes connecting with eyes.

Why is she even hesitating to take the drugs?

Perhaps she's scared that these medicines will not help her for the thing that bothers her the most; her mental state.

She shakes her head. There is no time to reflect about such things. Over a few hours she will be going back to school, and sleep is needed.

Rachel takes a cup from the cabinet and turns on the sink. Letting the water fall into the cup, and shutting it down after the water haunts at the edge. She straightens her back before the mirror and gazes back at her reflection.

She's not going to hesitate now.

Closing her eyes she puts the two aspirins in her mouth and drinks halve of the cup. Swallowing the aspirins whole.

Her eyes flutter open, as she meets her reflection once again. Her lips are parted, the color of her face drained.

And she just, stares.

* * *

><p>Rachel walks past her car, thrusting her feet forward into the asphalt. She passes several of cars on her way to the two way doors. Knowingly that the cars belong to her fellow peers and teachers. She tears her gaze away from the vehicles and instead focuses on her emerging destination. With her head held high and her trolley bag pack at her back, she has a feeling that today could go good. And not like the other day's where she would hide behind lockers to prevent a slushy from attacking her. Today she has a feeling that it could go better.<p>

Perhaps the reason for her natural smile is that today she wouldn't be having any classes with her tormentors. And could go harassment free. Although she might still see them during recess and the occasionally walking through the halls. Nevertheless, Rachel can perfectly take care of herself during her free periods. Fortunately she would also have a teacher walk with her through these troubles, too.

Shannon Beiste was always near her when trouble occurred. Rachel doesn't know how she does it, but when one of her bullies wants (tries) to attack her Shannon would always be there. Although she might come late at times. She still, somehow, manages to make her feel good.

That has to mean something, she only doesn't know, what.

She is always a perfectly sweet honorable student. Always having straight 'A's, helping her fellow peers when they were in need.

Perhaps at times she could be a bit too full of herself when she would talk about her star rising dreams. But that isn't a reason to hurt a person arduously. Which has been befallen upon her, countless of times. It also was extremely extraneous when those cruel students attacked her. And the two children who would act out on her the most where in the football team.

Shannon has told them various of times to stop their torments, and even threatened them with suspension. However, when they agreed that no such thing would occur again, it would happen once more.

And strangely, Shannon couldn't do much about it.

Rachel doesn't blame her, though.

They are the ones who lead the football team to it's victory, losing them, means losing the team.

It's strange, though. After all the warnings they have received, they still kept torturing her.

It comes to the point that they don't even seem to care anymore. Their treatment only increases far more. She's starting to get slushies three times a day, her books being smashed out of her hands every time she passes them in the hallway, loser being called out at her, everywhere she goes. Even threats are finding it's way to her locker, written on a piece of paper in her favorite pink ballpoint she had lost weeks ago.

She doesn't even dare to tell Shannon, afraid of what they can or will do.

She arrives in front of the doors, taking in a deep breath before pushing it open. Already feeling her happiness diminish by the seconds.

She walks through the doors, stepping inside of the school. Rachel closes her eyes and breaths in, she cups her head up high before strutting through the halls. Looking straight ahead. Determined, and with a smile plastered on her face.

Relieve sweeps along her as she sees that her bullies aren't standing near her locker. Giving her the time needed to gather her books and go to class. However, as she accelerates in her steps and her focus attached on her locker, a body steps in front of her, blocking her way.

''Rachel,'' she focuses her gaze at the person before her. Feeling her smile brighten. ''I wanted to talk to you.''

''Of course, coach Beiste.'' At school Rachel calls Shannon the same way every other student does, it's merely appropriate. ''Is there anything I can do for you?''

Coach Beiste smiles, ''it's not the matter of fact, if you can do something for me. But if you can wait for me after school.''

Rachel raises her eyebrows, cupping her head slightly lop-sided. ''I would, but I have an appointment with Dr. Stephen.''

''You do? Why?'' Shannon always seems to have interest in Rachel's whereabouts and what occurs in her life. It makes Rachel feel loved that there are other people attentive about her. Not only does she have her fathers, but also Shannon. And knowing that she was abandoned by her birth mother and father, she feels cherished among the ones who do care.

''Another incubus.'' Rachel shrugs, letting it seem as if it's the commonest thing ever. ''Daddie and Dad thought that it would be a proper idea for me to have a little discourse with Dr. Stephen. And I agreed.''

Shannon purses her lips, ''what was the dream about?''

''The same dream I always receive.''

''..About the scar?'' Shannon continued, her face somehow unreadable.

''Yes..'' Rachel waves her hand, brushing the subject off. ''I'm use to it, I just need to talk to my psychiatrist. And all will be fine...'' She smiles. ''So, why do I have to wait for you after school?'' Rachel gazes back at Shannon, looking at her face that seems to reflect about something, her eyes staying steady, unmovable. Lately Rachel noticed that Shannon was thinking way too often. Mostly when they were talking she seemed to shut herself off. Leaving Rachel to wonder what was actually going on in Shannon's mind.

''Yes.. Uhm'' Shannon shakes her head, the whistle around her neck moving to the right and left. ''Just make sure that you wait for me before leaving, and we will go together.''

''But, I'm with my car.''

''Then we will leave your car here today, and take mine.''

Rachel folds her arms around her chest, squeezing her eyes to slits. ''What is so important that you need to talk to me about?''

''Just make sure that you wait for me, and don't discourse with anybody you don't know.'' Her eyes stay fixated upon Rachel as she puts her hand on her shoulder. ''And about the dreams,'' Shannon smiles reassuringly. ''Don't worry about them, it will make sense, when you get older.'' Shannon squeezes her shoulder, whereupon she pulled her hand away and walked down the hall. Leaving Rachel to her thoughts.

She turns around, revolving her back fully, to see Shannon walking past the lockers before making a turn right and disappearing from her sight.

She sighs, letting her arms fall from her chest. Words like these make no sense to her.

Rachel turns back around continuing her movement to her locker. But as she does this motion her eyes behold the sight she desperately wished for not to see. However, being the determined diva that she is, she refuses to let something as viscous as two football players stand in her way.

She continues her steps to her locker not even sparing a second glance at the two guys before her.

''Hello Berry, looking good.'' Rachel sighs, trying to push herself to her locker, attempting to show no fear and take her books out of her rightful property. Although with the two football players standing before her and blocking the road to her locker this gesture seems have some road blocks.

''What a pleasant surprise, Karofsky.'' She crosses her arms around her chest, sarcasm dripping from every word. ''Surely I have done nothing wrong today, or have I?''

''Well, just existing is wrong in our eyes.'' She turns her head to his companion at his left. ''We just wanted to remind you that not being with you in the same class today, doesn't mean that you won't get a little treat from us.''

''While I appreciated your forcefulness Azimio, I would value if you let me get my books.'' She forces a smile. ''I won't be any trouble.'' She tries pushing her way to her locker once again, but Karofsky acts fast and takes her wrist in his hand, making her stop this motion. ''Do not touch me, Dave.''

''What are you going to do? Call auntie Beistie on us?'' Azimio makes a swift turn as he walks to her back, he bents his body so his head would lie inches away from her ear. ''Today is a special day, Rachel.'' She feels shivers run down her spine as his words infiltrate her body.

Never has she felt more nauseous then at this moment. Not even when she had participate in a drinking game. ''Today we are going to have some fun.'' She hears the laughter in his soft voice. Only to be left with a sickening feeling in her stomach. ''But we won't make fun now, too many witnesses.'' His hand comes lying upon her cheek. Leading her to tense up underneath his rough touch, feeling both weak and vulnerable.

''I suggest that you give me my well earned space.'' She uses her left hand, to pull her wrist out of Karofsky's hold. ''You both disgust me, and I rather want you and Dave to stay out of my way.'' She turns around so her eyes could meet with Azimio. ''And as for you. You- you.. _Pig,_'' She points her finger at his chest. ''Unless you want to meet with my lawyers I suggest that you leave the threats aside. I can ensure you and your little friend that those threats will give both of you legally problems.'' She steps back. ''And I am _Rachel berry.._.'' Her face turns serious, showing nothing but determination. ''I can make it happen.''

However the boy's don't seem at all scared, she even despises a little smile tugging at the corner of Karofsky's face. ''We are not scared for.. Legal lawsuits.'' _Those bastards_.. ''I think that you should be scared for us.'' Karofsky walks closer, invading her personal space once more. Gaining her to step back, with every step that he takes. Holding her head up high to look in his eyes, but unfortunately her body comes in osculation with the lockers behind her. Showing her that she has reached the end of her path. ''And not even coach Beiste can help you now.'' His smile seems so dangerous. And his eyes are so dark. It makes her wonder how a human can look so evil.

His hand leaves his body and comes lying upon her cheek. Rachel turns her face to the side, in order to let him know that she doesn't enjoy the touching. ''It was just a matter of time, Rachel...'' The shivers run upon her body once more, and she can't help but feel his words deep in her soul.

When did silly bullying become this serious?

''Why are you doing this?'' She whispers. ''What have I every done to deserve this?''

Azimio pulls Karofsky away, holding his arm tightly. ''It's just fun to provoke you.'' He pulls Karofsky to his side. Tearing the boy away from Rachel and starting to walk down the hall. ''Not now,'' he hisses to his friend, seeing him gaze back at Rachel. ''We have time for that later.'' Karofsky merely nods, for he knows that they will have time for it later.

Her breath hitches in her throat as she hears her peers stalk off. The larger bodies evaporating from her location.

Rachel is (and will always be) a strong confident girl. Wise, smart and endearing, no matter what others say. Her bravery will always be shown throughout her body and her eyes will always have such a spark, only proving her determination. She always believed that when she gained her star rising dreams, her bullies would be only part of her past. Just small memories, of a teenage nightmare.

But as Rachel revolves her head to the diminishing bodies of her tormentors, she has finally reached the point that everything she believes in, seems no longer intact. And that the memories she will have when growing older, will contain vicious deeds too.

Perhaps when she thought that she was brave and wise and that her life was going to be well in the end, she was holding on to that little _friction of her imagination_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Full Blood**

**AU.**

**No, I don't own glee.**

**Summary: A school for half bloods. Creatures whom are strong, brave, sagacious, vindictive yet purposeful, the essence of power. And then there are myths, tales that are as old as **

**time.**

**3. ****Mistakes and Regrets.**

* * *

><p>He suffers badly from his past mistakes, of all the things he has done and fears that he might do such a awful thing, once more. And even if he was not to fall back at the same pattern of his mistakes, he still will have the memories of prior. Knowingly that it should not infect him in his present or keep him from becoming best in everything, he knows it shouldn't stop him, but it still does.<p>

Samuel Evans is a kind hearted boy. He always was and he knows he will always be such a thing. He makes people smile with his silly impressions, and holds his ground in various of fights. He stands at the backs of his friends when they tend to need him, and he doesn't turn his eyes away when he sees something wrong that shouldn't occur. According to Finn Hudson this makes him one of his best friends ever. Because he's capable of putting his problems aside, and helping others.

It makes Sam just a bit warm inside that others seem so fond about him. He works hard for it though, perhaps not always achieving well in every class. But when it comes to trainings he comes out of it as number one. He even tutors the less achievers to become just as great as him, thus to let them master their powers like he has.

Sam likes it that others believe so much in him, trust him, even finding him a pristine young guy. He enjoys the attention he has gotten from versatile of girls too. Some perhaps giving him too much attention, _coughQuinnFabraycough_. Though he likes it that one of the most popular girls has a little crush on him. He enjoys it at times, but however, she can go a bit out of line, when it isn't needed. He loves the desire that vacates her eyes and comes to him, how her lips curl up into a smile as she sees him passing by, or even the way her back straightens as her finger twirls her pony tail just as he lays his gaze on her. Nevertheless that doesn't mean that the feelings are mutual.

But there are times that Sam wonders why he is so loved around his fellow classmates, he often has the feeling that he doesn't deserve it. That he doesn't deserve their love and affection, their kind words or their trust. He deserves none. One that knows how to be composed in hard times, and be yet brave, is the one that needs this kind of attention.

Although, since he has come to this school he has come to learn how to cope around his powers. Accepting them as a part of him. But even though he has accepted his self, and has learned how to control his rage, something still keeps holding him back. Detaining him tight at a leash. Perhaps it's the memories, the vague screaming, the warmth that feels oh so real, or even the fear revolving everywhere. And no matter how much he tries and thinks about positive thoughts, it still fails miserably.

His mother has told him that it was just a mistake and that he shouldn't beat himself up so much. And he always agrees with her, but never fully gives his self credit for regretting his actions right after the incident. Or feeling sorry for his mistakes, even if he tried fixing them. Trying to cover it up with his hands, hoping it could be fixed. Wishing that it was mere a dream that the stickiness on his hands was just glue from making his various of arts, and that the shallow breathing was just the wind blowing softly at his face.

It didn't heal though.

Sam keeps blaming his self for his stupid faults, his bad temper. Even if it has been told, several of times that he was yet too young and yet too little to know about who he was. Thus he can't blame his self about his bad choices. However he knows it's just pity they are giving him. Trying to let him feel good about his self, even if he doesn't. Even if he wasn't to blame for the occurrence because of his unknown forces by then. His mind keeps telling him that he could've stopped it, though.

And it aches, it aches so bad. It's a knife that finds it's way back in his mind as he sleeps. And cuts upon the closed wounds, putting salt on it just a bit more so he could feel it burning.

He knows, by now, that he enjoys everyone's presents, and their kind nature. However, he wishes that his mom could've let him stay with her. Together they could have worked it out. That's how they did it ever since he was born, working things out together.

He knows she was scared, though, and he can't blame her. Sam would be frightened too if he were to be his mom and he would see his own son change in front of his eyes. Shattering too pieces and crumpling to the floor, as you could do little then less. And you know you're so very close at touching him, but are unable too. Trying to reach out as your fingertips grace lightly at his cheek. But then you turn scared, fearing the pain you will get. And thus resolving at pulling your hand away, feeling the slight burn on your fingertips.

He was too young, his mother had said when his fists where burning, flames leaving his suavely skin. Lightening up the little room they were standing in. His breathing was shallow, almost inaudible. His chest rising up and down as he stood above the body. Looking over the tall shape who made him this way, who made Sam the guy he is today. He memorizes the feel of the flames leaving his body, red, orange lights flashing upon the walls. The white surroundings taking in the flames his body was producing, he felt hot, but in a good kind of way. A natural solid feeling. He raised both of his hands up holding them in front of his face, turning them forward and backwards to see the fire leaving his flesh. And he was mesmerized by his own actions. His eyes that seemed surprised, yet expended it's fury.

He remembers feeling scared too, but rage had seemingly took over his body as a whole. And he had felt nothing anymore, he became entirely numb. As the colorful flames became his immobile body.

Sam knows what for a threat he would be for the economy if he wouldn't have been trained and tamed here. Nevertheless he wonders if the lying body had ever left it's location, if he was perhaps still there. He wonders if he would ever see that face again. And if he may rage upon the shape once more, would he then be strong enough to control his anger? And become the hero that he should be? The one that everybody here knows, and not the stranger he was back then. Not the guy that his mom didn't recognize during that time.

Sam didn't recognize himself either.

He sits up from his position on the wet grass, looking up at the lake before him. He stares at the waves capturing the sun, the rays shining upon the water. The plants hovering at the sides, giving the water it's beautiful nature surroundings.

And he just stares, for he finds it one of the most magnificent sights he has ever seen. Who could have known that his school had such a beautiful lake at it's vicinity.

He sighs as his eyes attain the sight.

Sam hears the grass behind him rustle, steps coming ahead. He doesn't react until he feels a hand come lying upon his shoulder. His eyes still looking at the water before him as he murmurs softly.

''What are you thinking about?'' Sam shrugs his shoulders at his friends voice. ''Of course you know what your thinking about.. Because, you're, you, and that's like.. y'know.'' He clamps his hands tightly at the wet grass beneath his hands. The water wetting his palm, almost feeling similar like the stickiness of his memory.

''I was just thinking about my mom.'' He doesn't entirely lie, he just say's halve of the truth.

Finn walks towards his left and sits right next to him, pulling his knees to his chin. ''I miss my mom too.'' He hears the sadness in his voice, his arms tightening around his long legs. ''But at least we can see them on holiday's.''

Sam's eyes portray the shimmering of the water, the asterisks haunting his pupils. But beneath his green emeralds, there's another story. ''I guess you're right.'' He sighs, tearing his eyes away from the water and casting a glance at Finn. ''Do you ever..'' Sam looks back at the lake, fearing to share this part of his life with somebody. ''..Think about, how you, like, came here and all.'' He eyes Finn out of the corner of his eye, swearing that he could see the taller boy tense.

''N-no.'' Finn swallows hard. ''Not at all.. Why? Did you hear something?'' Finn's eyes seem tightly attached to the water. His hands around his legs turning into fits.

''No.. I was just, asking.'' He revolves his head back to Finn, before gazing back ahead. ''And just, thinking.''

Finn nods, forgetting that Sam can't see him. ''I know what you mean.'' He fumbles with his trousers, ''I've done that _a lot_.''

''You have?''

''Yeah man. And sometimes I ask myself.. What if I was not, y'know, not that I hate being _it_.. It's just.. Would I, like, still be with my mom.'' He shrugs his shoulders, knowing that his lazy attempt at forming a sentence went wrong. ''I kinda wished that things went different. But they didn't, so I have just chosen to stop looking at my past.'' He cups his head to his left, gazing at Sam. ''Somethings are not worth the thought, man.''

If only if life could be that easy and you could switch of the light when you get tired of thinking. ''Everyone probably feels the same way.'' Sam purses his lips.

''Nah, I doubt it.'' Finn relaxes his body. ''Do you think that the teachers are right? That we will be fine when we get out, because we know how to deal with, us being _us_.''

This time Sam shrugs his shoulders, ''we are kids that have powers dude, danger lurks like, _everywhere_.'' He bites his lip. ''We will never be fine.'' Sam had settled with that fact a long time ago when his first encounter with a demon had occurred. Something about those deep black eyes seemed to stare deep into his soul. Trying to tell him that it would never be over, and that his life will never be fine, nor normal. No matter where he goes. And those eyes that seemed to haunt him in his dreams, seemed to prove the demon's statement.

''I guess being special and all, comes with a price.'' Finn laughs bitterly, a hint of anger in his voice.

''Yeah.'' If only they had really chosen for it, perhaps then the price wouldn't be so hard to accept.

* * *

><p>They were walking through the halls of the large building. Blue and red prints of their school's motto drawn on the walls, proclaiming: <em>'Being special is good'<em>. Lockers attached at the right of their bodies, the floor and the walls having a white-creamy color, as the hall was filled with different kinds of students (or best to say creatures). Humble peers holding their books, talking with each other, discoursing about their various of lessons and martial arts trainings, some even using their powers to show off, which principle Figgens would not be fond about.

Sam dodges a lightening bolt as it comes his way. Finn instinctively following his lead, both boys cupping their heads back. Eyes wide as they succeed, with barley an inch, to avoid the force. ''You best lay of Brittany before I cuts you open.'' A sharp voice follows the immense attack, echoing softly through the halls, ''andz believe me. I will.'' Both boys see the schools stalker run off. His curls bouncing up and down. Jacob Ben Israel, the creep that doesn't know how to keep his hands to his self. The boy turns his head slightly to the left and right as if to look if he was indeed unharmed by the fierce Latina's attack.

Jacob swallows hard as he runs faster, his feet thrusting him forward. Fear haunting his face as the sharp girl (who apparently just saved her friend) curses in Latin, scowling at the back of the shorter boy. ''Next time I see you around her, I _will_ hurt you.'' She turns her head back to the blond next to her. ''Are you okay Britz?'' Sam cups his face to his left, gazing back at the Latina girl comforting her friend.

''Lord Tubbington said that I couldn't share myself with anyone else.''

''Your... cat?'' Santana cocks an eyebrow up.

''Wait,'' Finn pipes up from next to Sam. ''How can cats talk?'' He gazes at Sam. The blond boy just shakes his head and shrugs, not finding the logic in her sentence.

''It's Brittany. According to her; her mobile sings.''

''Mobiles can't sing? How do they let the sounds come out then?'' Sam raises his eyebrows, his head slowly turning to Finn.

He can't possibly be serious, can he?

Santana lays an reassuring hand upon the taller blonds shoulder. ''Don't worry honey, he wouldn't mind if you shared yourself.''

''He wouldn't? Did you talk to him? Did he say it was fine for us to make-out?''

_Wait.. What?_

''Ssst, Britz.'' Santana gazes over her shoulder, catching the eyes of the two boy's lingering in front of their lockers. She smiles basely, before rolling her eyes. ''We wouldn't talk about that, remember?'' She hisses back. ''Now lets go.'' She links her pinkie with Brittany, smiling reassuringly at her best friend before stalking off. Passing the two astonished guys. She wipes her ponytail slightly, her attitude gleaming of her body. Showing in that small minute just what for a severe girl she is aught to be.

''Is it me, or was that conversation, really, strange?'' Finn holds his gaze a little bit longer at the two dissipative girls.

''No, it's not just you.'' Sam shrugs his shoulders, turning back around to face his locker. ''Besides, Santana always makes threats to every one who comes near Brittany.''

''Yeah, it's like they have some unspoken bond, or something.'' Finn pauses for a moment, seeming as if he is constipating about the mere possibility. ''That isn't possible, is it?''

Sam turns his head to face Finn, trying to think of a logic retort, but not finding any. He tries cracking his brain, searching in his inner monologue. However, that's too much thinking for something that probably doesn't need too much thought. ''I'm gonna grab my books, Finn. And act like you didn't say that.'' He presses his locker code in and waits for the lock to open. Finn hovers at his back, his hand holding his bag strap tightly.

''What do you have next?'' He tries breaking the silents between them.

''I don't know, I think, spells.'' Sam grabs his books out of his locker, taking out the colorful purple and blue books with the words _'spells and rhymes' _thickly on top. He likes this subject, but doesn't seem to be very good at it. He tries though, always listening to his teacher's every word. And it's not like Ms. Pillsbury isn't teaching them well, because she does. It's just that he doesn't have his head in the game. His body is there, his breathing in the same room, but his mind has left his current location and vacated somewhere else.

Finn groans, ''yeah, me too.''

''You don't have to complain dude, you always get 'B's for that section.'' Which is a total miracle because Finn _never _gets 'B's.

''Yeah but that's because I'm sitting with Mike.'' He makes it sound as if it's so obvious. ''He's Asian. They know every ancient spells. And Mike inherited their tricks.''

''You can't possibly believe that..''

''Yeah, I do. He told me his father owns this house here in Lima and that he has crazy poison's and spells that are older then he himself. He also contains drugs that he uses for his own test. And because he is a doctor, he has lots of them.''

Maybe he should sit with Mike too, get his grade up a little bit. ''Then you're a lucky bastard. Puck doesn't know shit about poisons and spells.''

''Maybe I can help you?'' Both boy's turn around as they come face to face with one of the most popular girls at school. Her blond hair tightly in a ponytail. Both her hands clasping her hips, giving her body the fortitude she always shows. But with the red and white cheerleader skirt she seems more innocently, sweeter. Like a girl who can't do any harm...

Who the fuck is he kidding, she's like the freaking devil.

''Hey, Quinn.'' His eyes shift from his right to the left. ''I forgot you took spells.''

She smiles, her lips curving upwards. ''Yeah, I have too learn every basics.'' Her body moves closer towards his, leaving little space between them. ''I can help you.. If you want to of course. I'm really good at spells.'' She bats her eyelashes, the tempting smile brightening.

''That's, sweet and all. But.. I'm already with Puck, and he would kill me if I ditched him like that.'' He shrugs his shoulder, faking a regrettable face. ''Sorry.''

Her face falls, but she seems to pick her composure just as fast. ''To bad.'' Her voice sounds deeper. ''I would have loved to help you.'' She twirls around and starts walking down the hall. And Sam could've sworn that she was moving her hips just a bit more, then necessary.

''I don't understand why you don't take her up on her offer.'' Finn say's, as his gaze never leaves her back. His eyes moving with her ass, rotating in her short skirt. ''She's hot, and she wants you.''

Sam sighs, because he _doesn't _understand why he isn't interested. She _is_ hot, and... Yeah well, she's hot. Perhaps he just needs something more, differently. And not your everyday beauty. ''Why don't you just try and get her.'' He shrugs his shoulders, honestly not caring if Finn does or doesn't. ''I just don't dig her like that.''

''Your lost man.'' It doesn't feel like a lost, though. He's kinda happy that Finn wants to take Fabray of his hands. He smashes his locker door shut and starts walking ahead, moving to his next class. Finn follows him strictly behind, before falling into the same steps as Sam. Both walking in sync to their next class.

* * *

><p>He takes a seat next to Puck at the back row, Finn places his self in front of Puckerman next to Mike. He stares ahead at Ms. Pillsbury writing preparatory spells and phrases. Her neat handwriting scribbling Greek words on the green board, translating them right next to it back in English. The words plastered upon the board, haunting his vision as he tries to understand the meanings. Even though the translation is right next to it, he still fails to fully understand the words, the meanings, and what they can do.<p>

Sam chooses to ask Puck the question lingering in his brain, ''do you know what that spell means?'' His gaze never leaves the green board, as his lips reveal his mind.

''I think it's about, teleporting or something. Dodging your enemy when it get's hard.'' Puck shrugs, ''I don't no man, we had this lesson like a week ago. You should know what it means.''

Sam rolls his eyes, and turns his head to Puck. ''Why don't you know anything about it. We are in the same class after all, if I should know it, you should too.''

''Yeah but, I never listen to anything other teachers say, why would I do it now?'' He purses his lips, ''besides, out of us two, you're the smart ass.''

He's not going to argue with Puck on that part.

''I guess so,'' he turns his head back ahead, right in time to see Ms. Pillsbury write a new phrase on the board.

''Good morning class,'' she starts. ''Today we are going to learn about the variety of offensive attacks. The ones that seemingly struck you if you say the spell correct.'' She turns around back to the board and scribbles the English translation of the Greek phrase. _''Rage meet rage.'' _She formulates, ''This is used when your attacker returns your force against you.'' Ms. Pillsbury walks forward to the class. ''This is mostly used as a defensive attack.''

''But I thought that it was an offensive attack.'' Tina say's as she writes notes. ''How can that be, at the same time, a defense?''

''Because attack is the best defense.'' Ms. Pillsbury replies, ''Let's say, somebody knows a dark secret about you. Something you wish to keep silents. And you wonder how you can succeed at doing this. Well, most people attack them back by telling something about them they wish that wouldn't be heard. Or something that can hurt them.''

''Like a taste of your own medicine?'' Mike asks.

''If I'm sick I taste medicine too.'' Brittany say's, successfully, earning confused glances out of all the children in the class.

''Not like that Brittany.'' Santana pats her hand softly. ''She means, like, payback. Like you're giving a person the same thing that he gave you.''

''Yes, precisely Santana.'' Ms. Pillsbury walks back to the board, writing on top of it; _payback_. ''We want them to suffer, the same way they wanted us to suffer. Only you react faster then the other by using this spell.''

Finn presses his eyebrows together. ''So he get's harmed, and you don't?'' He asks.

''If you react fast enough, then that happens, indeed.''

She turns back to the board, and starts writing another word, ''It is helpful when..'' Sam shuts her voice down, her lips keep moving, but he doesn't hear a thing. He sees her hands move frantically, seeming as if she's explaining several of things. However, he doesn't hear none of it, instead he's haunted by the mere words that have been spoken during this lesson. He knows that he once again, has shut his self out of his surroundings, but this time he couldn't help it.

_''Rage meet rage.'' _His mind is hanging on the same sentence, the same words. It's like a bad memory popping back just when he found a tiny hole to hide them in for the time being. He tries pushing them back where they belong, shoving the remainder of sand back on top of the hole, but as he does this. He sees the memory sticking up. And he can't help but touch it.

He can't help but understand the meaning of the spell, feel the fortitude of the strenght it carries. He can nearly feel it on his bare skin.

_He can feel the rage he has, as he aims it at the one before him, and he was certain, hundred percent sure that it will end here and now. But the voice, those lips, those deep, black eyes looking at him, staring back, and speaking a spell, showed him differ. And Sam can feel it, see it, his own power, his own fire coming back at him. Returning to his master, and attacking him. Hitting him so hard, he almost blacked out. _

It shouldn't have gone like that, he shouldn't have been the one falling, hitting his head. Needless to say, in some way, looking back at it, he did it to himself.

_Sam can still taste his own blood falling to his lips. His own hands trembling as he touched his stomach, searching for the pain he feels. He wasn't beating, or defeated, yet. He could still fight back, he knew that. _He knows that. _But when lying there, hopeless, scared, angry, he couldn't help but think that he had let the man before him come this close. Seen his weakness from nigh. And therefor, in someway, he had lost._

_Sam's eyes were looking everywhere, moving around, his lips slightly parted. Desperately seeking for words to fall of his lips, be strong just like the one before him. However, he fails to do just this task. He wants to stand up, and fight back. To listen to his body screaming, yelling at him to be strong and not weak. The voice beneath his skin telling him that a boy like him mustn't be weak. Not even in hard times like these. It were voices that kept telling him to move to higher levels, but they weren't his body. And his body didn't want to move._

_The man's right hand comes up as he whispers softly: ''I always loved you... Sam.'' His harsh faction invading his ear. The hand above his head glowing ferociously, the dark eyes staring back at his green ones. _

_And Sam can do nothing but gaze, frozen with fear, bones to weak to even move. Perhaps it's called weakness and he just chooses to call it fear so he doesn't have to listen to the realization that he's weak._

_The glowing hand slowly comes down, the light taking in the man's arm fully, as he aims back at the young boy on the floor. His fingers shaking, sweat drops leaving his face. His darken eyes showing the slightest bit sorrow, repentance. His numb face scrunched up to grief. The man before him wanting to cease, stop the event from happening. His restrain was breaking. _

_Sam could see it. _

_But it did do nothing, absolutely nothing, to stop the man from attacking. Not even the so called love he had cherished for him._

_Sam knew that he was about to meet death itself, feel the flames of hell breaking through his tender skin. It was just a matter of time, and nothing could stop it from happening._

_His eyes were glued at the light forming ahead, the fortitude wanting to connect with his limp body. And as he closed his eyes, giving in to the mere thought of dying, he could hear the force connecting with a body. He thought about the screeching sounds his body will make as the power hits him. How the pain will fill his veins and run through his bones as a whole. He waited for the pain to take him to his rightful death, but he however, stayed untouched._

Sam knows that if he listened to the voice deep within, and stood up. Maybe then, things would've gone differently.

He feels a light shove at his shoulder, pushing him to the right. Sam turns his head to his friend as he raises his eyebrows. Trying to understand why Puck would shove him in class. But as he sees the boy move with his eyes frantically, he starts noticing that others are looking at them. He turns his head to the front as he gazes right back in his teachers eyes. Her eyebrows knotted in confusion.

''Um yes?'' He scratches the back of his head, trying to understand what he did wrong.

Ms. Pillsbury sighs, ''I asked you if you could repeat the spell for me,'' her voice is haunted with annoyance. Clearly she has asked him this a couple of times, seeing as she doesn't seem at all her happy self, currently.

''Oh yeah, sorry.'' His pulls his hand away from the back of his head. ''Could you maybe, repeat the spell for me?'' He bites the inside of his cheek. ''I kinda, dosed off.''

''Yeah, so we see.'' Puck retorts, snickering slightly. Earning a glare out of his direction.

''Just read it of the board, Sam.'' Miss. Pillsbury points at the green board, pointing at the spell she had begun the lesson with.

He swallows, narrowing his eyes as he repeats the words. ''Rage.. meet, rage.'' His voice stops after every word. The mere pain building up in his heart. The memories threatening to flowed his brain once more. Though, he refuses to let it happen. He refuses to recall everything again. However only saying these few words still hurt him more then necessary.

''Good, but the next time say it more fluently. If you say the spell as slow as you did it will have little effect.'' He merely nods, faking a small smile for good measures. She turns around and focuses back on the board, saying the words faster so that everybody understands how it should be said.

Sam sighs, pushing his back harder against his chair. He bets his dad knows exactly what Miss. Pillsbury is talking about.


	4. Chapter 4

**Full Blood**

**AU.**

**No, I don't own glee.**

**Summary: A school for half bloods. Creatures whom are strong, brave, sagacious, vindictive yet purposeful, the essence of power. And then there are myths, tales that are as old as time.**

**4. For every issue, lies a drug.**

* * *

><p>Her small palm reaches for the car handle, pulling this open and plastering herself on the driver seat and then closing the door. Rachel instinctively puts her seat belt on. Adjusting herself, right after, better on the seat. Her back straightens, as her fingers come lying upon the gear. She uses her free hand to put her key in the keyhole of her car. Starting the gas, as she uses the gear to back up out of her school's parking lot.<p>

She backs up all the way and spins the wheel around. Riding up to the gate of the school and on to the road.

She gazes at the time, looking at the digit's that display the current timing. She sighs softly, fidgeting with the button of the radio until finding a song she likes. The radio releases a soft tune, letting the song roam inside her vehicle. A soft woman's voice starts occupy her hearing, filling her head completely. Rachel remembers this song, and the female producing this sound. One of her favorite idols, Celine Dion. The voice raises when reaching the chorus, the pitch being outstanding (not that she expected anything else). Rachel can already behold the woman, her lips opening wide, her hand holding her stomach, as she blows out the last note.

A woman with such a pair of lungs, and such a beautiful voice, always seems to succeed at tasks like these. Hitting notes that seem impossible. Rachel knows that one day she will be just like her. No, even better. She will be just like Barbara Streisand. With her flaws and insecurities, yet beautiful. And one day people will also listen to her songs and think the same thing; 'this girl is _magnificent_.' And indeed, she is.

Rachel can already see the lights aimed upon her face. The stage big underneath her feet, empty, and large just for her. Before her, an audience that will be roaring her name. Chanting for her to show off the voice she carriers. The thing that she is best in. And there, in the audience, in the middle of all the ordinary people she will see Barbara Streisand. Giving her a thumbs up.

And thus she will sing. With the lights sparkling along her features, her hands up in the air. Belting 'Don't rain on my parade,' whilst she succeeds at being the best. Proving her idol just what for a star she is.

Her cheekbones raise up, as a smile appears on her face. She turns the wheel another time to the right, riding from then on straight forward.

According to the time she will be approximately twenty minutes early for her appointment with Dr. Stephen. Which she is glad about. For she is not fond about arriving late at certain appointments. Especially not one that includes decisions about her mental state.

She needs to get a few things out too, and perhaps she will get a bit of help from Dr. Stephen (she doesn't expect it, though). He is a nice man, with his dark curly hair hanging along his cheeks and the never disappearing smile on his face. He releases a gently yet secure vibe. And always seems to listen to her. She needs that. She needs somebody to hear her out and not judge her. Perhaps, that's what psychiatrists are for. Not judging, but helping.

Shannon Beiste always listens to her, though. Her lips pursed, when she hears Rachel talk about her dreams. Her head shaking erroneously when she asks if she's getting crazy. Shannon somehow releases the same vibe as Dr. Stephen. But the difference between the two, is that Shannon seems more like a motherly figure. A more helpful, comprehensible woman. Shannon doesn't try to stuff her up with drugs, or tell her that it's her imagination playing tricks on her. She just listens, and understands. Holding her tight when she cries, saying encouraging words in her ears. Shannon tells her she's not crazy, that she's not losing her mind. But that she's just confused and scared.

She doesn't know what she's scared about, though. Maybe the probability of her dreams - nightmares - being real.

However, Dr. Stephen is a professional. And it will please her fathers if she seeks help by him. Therefor, to not put them in to much fear and anxiety, she decides to come early at these kind of appointments. She thinks about her fathers, and wants to please them in anyway possible. Although she had to wait for Shannon, for she wanted to tell her something seemingly important. Rachel did not have time for that. If Shannon would have come early, perhaps then she could've wait. Unfortunately that didn't happen, so she decided to leave.

She sees a gray, white building forming ahead, and knows that her destination is not far behind. She presses the gaspedal a bit harder and speeds up. Rotating the wheel a few times before reaching inside of the parking lot. She seeks with her eyes an empty space. Turning the car around and riding a circle around the parking lot. Her eyes attain the sight of an empty space between two vehicles.

She presses the gaspedal a bit harder and rides straight forward, as she reaches the empty space she backs up with her car. Riding straight backwards, while gazing through the mirror to see if she's not about to hit a car while doing this deed. Rachel succeeds at parking her car perfectly between the two vehicles and eliminates the engine.

* * *

><p>She grasps the doorknob, twisting this around and pushing it open. Her feet calmly step inside the building, stepping towards the hall. The door behind her slowly falling close, letting a hard pop notify itself. Jumping slightly, she takes a deep breath. Closing her eyes as she tries to compose herself.<p>

It was the usual, the fear crawling over her bare skin. The tender bristles on her forearms rising up. Somehow, being in this mere environment, has had this strange reaction to her body. Before she would've been confident, not worrying about a thing. Because she knows that there isn't anything to worry about, nothing bad is going to take place. But when the doors close, her body between the white walls, she fears the worst.

She lays her right hand upon her chest, trying to feel her heart beat. Wanting to feel the pondering on her hand. Her heart beat moves frantically, beating harder then before. Her fingers tremble above her chest, moving slightly up and down as she cherishes her chest. Trying to steady her heartbeat, if that is even possible.

Her eyes flutter open, lips parting slightly.

It's now and never. And knowing the way she acts, and the fear circularize her, it might be never.

Her hand falls of her chest, her feet moving in sync together towards the desk. Taking her first right, and walking straight forward.

Her faces is benumbed as the mask she mostly carriers around. Holding her emotion beneath the visage that is her face. And as a true actor, this is what she can do best. This is what will drag in a Tony. For a true actor has been born inside his battles and not while studying.

She gazes around the white walls, looking at the large frames of artists. Some are arts of these artists. Such as the painting _'Scream'_, drawn by Edvard Munch. That piece of art always seems to fascinate her. She always wonders what had cost this person to act out like that. The way the colors surround his destination. The lines that are drawn upon the painting, artificial colors. It's symbolizes something. And sometimes she thinks she can relate to the person on the painting. She's also standing on a road, screaming, wanting someone to help her, but no one does. And in that painting, the person stands there, hands on his cheeks, and he just screams. And behind him stand two bystanders, just looking. Probably not knowing what to do.

Perhaps they try to help him. Maybe, if Edvard had drawn a second painting that concludes this one, perhaps she would see how those bystanders would help him.

Will they even succeed in helping him? Do they even know how? Does he even know how to let them in?

It's complicated, but she feels connected to it. She understands it.

Rachel tears her gaze away focusing on the desk ahead of hers. A female wearing a neat, but tight, blue suite with a wavy white colorful skirt that is up to her knees, looks up. Her crumpled old face lightens up as she smiles. Letting the wrinkles on her face tighten just slightly. Her dark brown eyes, smiling back at Rachel. ''Another appointment?'' The older woman in her late fifty's questions. The woman straightens her back, closing the little distance between her and the desk before her, as she leans forward.

Rachel reaches the desk, putting her gaze on the woman as she stands ahead of her. ''Yes. Does Dr. Stephen possess any time for me?'' She crosses her arms, smiling softly back at the woman. ''I know that my timing is fairly early. Like always, but perhaps, I thought, that a frequenter had called off?''

''You're in luck honey.'' The woman presses a button on the telephone. She winks back at Rachel and takes the phone of the container. ''I'm going to call him right now. Mrs. Amberdon had just visit him and left early.''

Rachel nods, understanding what she means. She has seen Mrs. Amberdon here for quite a while now. She always seemed sad, her eyes were streaked red for what Rachel suspected was from crying. The woman always seemed unhappy. But when visiting Dr. Stephen, her mood seemed to change by the day. As if her spark had returned. Her eyes started to smile whenever she laughed. Her cheeks turned red whenever she said something silly. And she started to dance, just sometimes when nobody was watching (but Rachel was there, to spot her doing this deed).

She wonders why he can re-new others happiness, but hers is still left lacerated. 

_She, _is left lacerated.

''Do you think he can seize me earlier then the opposite timings, Arielle?'' She refers to the woman before her.

Arielle simply nods, grasping the phone more tightly when a sound is heard from the other line. ''Hello, Dr. Stephen.'' She stops and waits for him to respond. ''Rachel Berry has arrived early and wants to know if you can perhaps have her in.'' She nods, and answers vaguely with a few yes'es. ''She will be happy to hear it.'' She nods again.

Dr. Stephen can't see her, so why does she even nod?

Rachel merely shakes her head, smiling. She would be lying if she said that she doesn't do the same thing too.

''Okay, I understand.'' Arielle continues. ''I will be sure to send her in..._ Goodbye_.'' Arielle hangs up and puts the phone back in the receiver. ''He say's he can have you in.''

''Okay, thank you. I will be on my way.'' She turns around forwardly and starts walking past the desk.

''You want me to bring you there, honey?''

Rachel keeps walking but turns her head over her shoulder. ''No thank you. I know the way.'' She smiles politely back at Arielle as the woman does the same thing. Rachel turns her head back forward. Stepping towards the first door on her left. She knocks gently and waits until she hears a approval for her to come in. Her ears pitch up as a hoarse voice responds with a yes and come in. She turns the doorknob and opens it, pushing it forward as her head reveals itself through the door. Her eyes roam around the warm room. A snug vibration hitting her body, and the feeling of security roaming over her bones.

She feels save.

''Aah, Rachel. Good to see you.'' She steps through the door and closes it behind her. Looking at her right she sees Dr. Stephen sitting in his comfy chair. She knows that his chair is comfy because he had let her sit inside it once. He had told her that to feel secure with him, and trusting him she had to have the right to have the same things like him. So both could feel equal. And by achieving that she had to sit in his chair for a whole session.

It felt nice, not to be treated poorly by someone. And treated just as equally.

Perhaps that would be what he was aiming for.

He moves forward in his swivel chair, planting his elbows on the large brown desk before him. The room kinda looks like the office of her principle. With the same big, brown high swivelchair. The large desk and the stool in the middle of the room. Contrary of her principle's office, this room contains a bed.

''Where would you like to sit, on the chair or lie on the bed.'' Dr. Stephen always wants her to feel comfortable. And therefor gives her a choice to choose where she wants to be best. According to him, you can only be comfortable at sharing, if you are comfortable at the place you're at.

''I want to sit.'' She walks away from the door, where she had been standing for minutes now. And sits on the chair in the middle of the room.

''So, your dads have called me.'' He smiles gently, the smile not reaching his blue eyes. ''They told me you had another nightmare.''

She nods, letting him know that he may continue.

''I see.'' He pulls his elbows away from the desk, leaning fully on the back of the chair. ''Want to talk about it?''

She sighs, eyes darting away from him and landing on her lap. She fumbles with a lose thread of her skirt, playing it along her fingers. She has to cut that thread, it doesn't make her skirt look just as good. ''I dreamed that I was a baby, and that I got hurt.'' She fingers the thread a little longer, pulling at it. ''And that there was somebody... Somebody who was terribly, scary. And he was strong. Amazingly strong.'' She gazes back up, seeing Dr. Stephen stare right back at her. ''But I couldn't see his face. It was all too dark.''

''The place was dark?''

''No, he was dark.''

''How do you mean?''

She sighs again, arms folding on her lap. ''As though he was bad. And had this uncommon bad aura around him. Like a infant who's sleeping and has this bad nightmare and say's that the boogie man is aught to get him... The man in my dream is like the boogie man.''

He nods, eyes focused on her. Unreadable. ''How are you positive it's you in the dream?''

''My scar. It's on the same place.'' She bites her lip. ''And.. It feels so-so authentic. Like, it can't be fake. It's impossible. It's too authentic, too much pain, to be just a dream.''

''But it isn't just a dream, Rachel. It's a nightmare. And nightmares always feel real. It always feels like you're dying inside of them. Losing grip of everything you behold.''

She understand, she knows what he's going at. But that doesn't mean that it's related to her. ''My head was hurting me. Yesterday when I woke up.''

''Did you fall?''

''No.''

''Hit something on your way to the bathroom, maybe?''

''No.''

''Scratch yourself to hard?''

''No! I didn't!'' She feels and hears her patience running out. And thus steadies herself. ''I just woke up with this ache. And when touching my mark, I felt the pain shooting through my body.''

''Your nightmares may be to much to handle, and your head can start hurting.''

''My forehead was hurting, the same place as my scar.''

He leans forward, lips pursed. ''Then what do you think that is possibly happening?'' Her eyes dart to the right and left. ''If this occurrence is indeed happening, what do you think is the secret behind it?'' Her eyes stop moving and gaze back at him. She knows he's waiting for an answer.

''I..'' But she doesn't know what to say. ''I don't know.'' She closes her eyes. ''I genuinely don't know... But there is something going on. It just can't be- I can't sense these things just like that. There is more, there has to be.''

''I understand you Rachel. You have gotten these nightmares for quite a while now.'' _Try 16 years_. ''And you badly want an answers for this. And I can't give you them.'' _Figures_. ''But I know how to ease the pain.'' He searches in his draw, taking out a white paper, writing upon it what she speculates is a drug. ''This can help you from the pain on your head, and can give you peaceful dreams.''

But she doesn't want that, she wants to figure this out.

''At first you might feel a bit light headed, but it will wear of.'' He tears the paper off and leans ahead a bit more. She hesitates to take it. She doesn't want to use medication that she doesn't need. She's perfectly fine, and healthy. But her dads will worry, and she doesn't want them to do that. Declining and being stubborn will only lead to complications. So when she stands up and takes the piece of paper and fakes a smile, she keeps remembering that she's doing this to keep her fathers happy.

''Do you think that my dreams mean anything?'' She stares at her paper, reading over the medications. Her mind seems to be fully on the paper between her fingers, but actually she's waiting for a honest answer.

''Honestly, I think, being with two fathers, not knowing your mom and being treated badly on your school when there is nothing wrong with you, can do these things to a person.'' She nods. ''You're alone and no one understands you. And to top that you get nightmares. I think that you build all the torments you get and put it inside of you, creating a nightmare. And the boogie man, the one you're frightened for, are your insecurities, torments and lack of acceptance. You created your own boogieman.''

He's _kinda_ right. ''Yes... Maybe...'' Doesn't explain her scar though.

But it seems as if he can read her mind. ''And that scar, is the resemblance of your mother. The only thing you have from her.'' _What? _''Your fathers had told me that it may have happened when you where still in the care of your mother. You remember the scar as if somebody is hurting you... The dream where somebody is hurting you, causing that scar to appear, can be your mother.''

''Thus, my boogieman is like my mother, hurting me?''

''Or you're insecurities, etcetera.''

He could be right, thinking about it. It sounds like the best explanation. ''I think you're right.'' She grasps the paper tighter. ''I've been seeking all this time for reasons and logic explanations, when it isn't even so hard to find. It was all those time right in front of me. I just chose to ignore it and search for something, bigger, narrower. When that isn't even needed.'' She smiles brightly. ''I get it.''

''Good. Now, if that is all.'' He leans back in his chair, looking up at her.

''Yes. That is all.'' She folds the prescription in her hands, holding on to it tightly. And for the first time, without hesitating, she will take the medication. Knowing that it is indeed well for her.

It is, _right_?

Yes. It is.

She smiles genuine back at him, and he returns it less eagerly. ''I guess, I will see you in a while.'' She steps away from his desk and walks to the door, opening this.

And she knows for the first time - after all this time - she understand what Mrs. Amberdon feels like. Like everything is butterflies and cupcakes, roses and sunshine. Stars and music, laughter and dance.

She has a smile of her own to prove it.

* * *

><p>The warm air hits her face as soon as she gets out of the building. The smile on her lips still intact. She can hear the birds whistle, their wings flapping. She even sees one flying right towards her, and way up to enjoy the sky. Avoiding her head just with an inch.<p>

Arielle had seen her face, saw her smile, saw how it reached her eyes. How she appeared to be ready to dance. As though the world was just easy and she was playing it hard before, but now knows all the tricks.

The door falls shut behind her, and she continues her steps towards her car. Her steps slowly, enjoying the wind she first never really felt. Listening to the beautiful music the leaves make.

As she walks closer towards her car, she gets this nagging feeling. This pesky sense that somebody is looking at her. Shivers running over her upper arms, goosebumps making their appearance. Heart beat racing.

And fear has once again filled her.

She despises it that things can get her so easily.

However, she still feels like she's being watched, as if a few eyes are wandering over her features. Looking at her hungrily. She knows that this sensation is insane, and out of the question. But she can't help but to be scared, fearing the worst.

She steps closer towards her car, her steps deliberately slow. Moving her head slowly right and left, looking for things that don't need to be here, out of place. Her heart quickens with every step that she takes. Her face is haunted as a mask, not showing her fear, but deep down inside her beating heart, she wants to run.

As she comes closer towards her car, she sees a dark shadow haunting the ground. A body proclaiming on the stone covered floor, it's shape big and muscular. It's posture terrifying. Indeed she was right to be frightened. Her face moves slowly to the right, her body moving with this deed until she turns around, fully. Coming face to face with one of her tormentors.

''Told you we will meet again.'' Out of the corner of her eyes she sees Azimio walking up to where she and Karofsky are standing. ''We just, want to talk... Care to join?'' His eyes are dark, no emotion shown in his pupils. No vacillation to be seen. His chest rises up and down, as he takes a step closer. He smiles, not his tooth bright, but just a smile. And with the way he looks at her, the way he seems to show of his dangerous attitude, makes her cringe.

''It's serious now.'' Azimio walks closer. ''Game over.''

When did she put herself as a willing participant?

''No, it isn't game over dude,'' Karofsky laughs, darkly, dangerously. ''We have just begun.''

Right in front of her eyes, the stage, the lights, Barbara, she can already see it crumpling to the ground. Her dreams already shattering all over the floor. A vase falling from it comfy seat on a table, getting bumped by and landing on the carpet. Breaking, shattering, torn into pieces. Unable to be repaired, without seeing the cracks. Bones crackling, doctors not advanced enough to heal the pain.

Everything is falling, breaking._ Everything._

It's going to be over, before it even started.


	5. Chapter 5

**Full Blood**

**AU.**

**No, I don't own glee.**

**Summary: A school for half bloods. Creatures whom are strong, brave, sagacious, vindictive yet purposeful, the essence of power. And then there are myths, tales that are as old as time.**

**5. Oh secrets, won't you reveal?**

* * *

><p>His hands are curled up into fists, the flames washing over them. His breathing is steady, eyes closed. He holds his ground, he always does. His feet stand tall, his attitude bravely, strong, confident. He's ready.<p>

A swift wind is heard, and his eyes snap open. He feels the cold wind blow along his face, hearing rustling at his right. He bents down with one swift movement, using his leg to let his opponent fall down. His feet touches skin, and the boy next to him falls to the floor. He tries standing up. But Sam is faster, he pins him down, and raises his fist, fire desolating his knockels, holding it right before the boy's face.

And that is all there is needed to frighten his opponent.

It's a camouflage attack though, because right after Sam believes that the boy is going to quit, resting his shoulders, the boy attacks right afterwards.

He pushes Sam with as much force as he carriers, and Sam merely stumbles a bit. But soon regains composure. He straightens his back cracking his neck from side to side. The boy on the floor moves quickly to stand up.

The boy moves his hand to the left, and with one fast swift motion wind leaves his palm. Coursing it's way to Sam. Sam crosses both his arms before his face, trying to hide his face from the attack. Yet it does nothing to prevent him from being blown of his feet. The boy sees this as his cue to lunge forward and quickly stars moving in his steps. Running with speed he prepares to attack Sam.

However, some underestimate their opponents too fast. For when the agile boy runs, Sam reaches out, palm aimed at him as his rage fills his eyes. His green emeralds turning into flaming heats. With a loud grunt, the blond boy releases a blaze of fire. Hitting the agile boy prerogative on it's chest, sending him flying backwards. Sam pushes his body of the floor, seemingly still strong and full of energy to continue. He steps closer towards the boy and the floor, flames reaching his fist once more. Lightening his bare skin. Tingling softly on his flesh. ''Had enough?'' He speaks up.

The agile boy smiles weakly. Just as stubborn as the one he's battling with. He crawls up and shakes his head. ''Nah, just getting started...'' He swivels both his hands, and pushes it forward, letting a wild wind course it's way to Sam. But this time the blond boy doesn't seem to fall for it just as easy and moves right out of the way. Jumping too the right to escape the attack.

The agile boy sees this contrary as a opening.

As Sam focuses to escape the attack, the agile boy moves forward, faster then before. Leaving a line of smoke behind him.

Sam looks up and sees a shape moving towards him. His eyes widen, mouthing falling open slightly. His legs try to move left to escape the coming hit, but it's like his feet are attached to the ground, they don't listen, they won't cooperate.

The agile boy, reaches out with his fist, but Sam blocks his hand quickly by pushing it upwards with his own. His right hand reveals the burning flames his body creates, and with this hand he pushes the agile boy against his stomach. Sending him once again flying back. Unfortunately he manages to slip over the ground and find a way to collect his stability. With lips parted he releases heavy breathing. Feeling sweat trickel down his spine.

He's not going to walk away before his opponent is lying face up on the floor.

''You're not going to win this Mike, give up.'' Sam say's, as he brushes his shirt of for any visible dust.

''You... Ca-can...'' He pants. ''F... Forget about... That!'' Mike leans forward. ''You're going down!'' He uses his hand and makes a gesture to blow another wind towards Sam. However, Sam doesn't let it get so far as he raises his own right hand to mimic his friends gestures.

''That's too bad...'' He lets a stray of fire leave his palm, gaining it to go through the wind Mike created. The long stray of fire hits the Asian boy square in the chest, causing him to bend his body over. He coughs, stumbling backwards. Sam runs straight after the attack towards his friend. Fist burning as he aims it threateningly at the Asian.

''Why do you make everything seem so scary...'' Mike say's as his knees hit the floor. He coughs. ''Not cool, dude.''

''Would you expect a total stranger to go easy on you?'' This causes Mike to nod. Sam rolls his eyes ''That's a big fantasy you've got up there.''

Mike smiles, ''yeah, okay. I understand...'' He sighs, leaning his hands on the ground. ''I give up.''

The flames extinguish from his fist, revealing untouched skin. He unclenched his hand and reaches it out, clamping tightly on Mike's hand before pulling him up.

''Well done you guys...'' He hears the voice of his teacher followed with clapping.

And he's, like, really surprised that they're receiving praises, because most of the time his teacher would find a way to make something that was so good, so well rehearsed or perfectly done, sound poorly. ''...But next time, try using those nuts you've gotten by birth.'' ...Aah, yes _there_ it is. ''This was a despicable display of fighting. You make me sick! Seriously, I'm on the verge of _puking!_ And I haven't even seen Williams nest head yet. Do you know what that means?'' She pauses, glaring back at them. ''That means that you guys make me sicker then _William_, and that my misfits, makes me want to punch_ all of you_ in the noses.'' He sighs, clenching his jaw. ''It's things like these that kick William of his number one spot on my hate list and puts others on top.''

''They did it alright in my eyes.'' Artie speaks up from his place on the bench.

''You dare question my knowledge, four eyes? According to this whistle,'' she grasps the whistle around her neck tightly, holding it between her index finger and showing it to Artie. ''And my experiences,_ I_ am the one who knows if they've done it good, or bad...'' She purses her lips. ''And alright doesn't even touch great.'' She glares. ''So keep your wheels to yourself and let me handle this.'' Artie seriously looks like he's about to piss himself. ''Now...'' Coach Sylvester revolves her glare back to them. ''_Leave_ my gym floor and head for the bench. This ground is only for winners.''

Mercedes raises her eyebrows ''But then you're the only one standing on it.''

''Exactly.'' Is her only retort.

Both boy's walk back to the bench, Mike though practically shuffles on his way back to his seat, after he visibly sends Sam a glare of his own as he clamps onto his stomach in pain.

Sam can only manage a sympathetic smile.

Coach Sylvester turns around, facing the children on the bench. ''Now listen hormonal horny poorly made fools... Like seriously you pigs are hormonal, I've even seen one of you make-out in a class room..._ During_ the _lesson!_'' She castes a fast glance to Santana, shaking her head irrevocably. Earning the Latina girl to look away. ''Anyway... Next time, I want to see _more_ action! More fierce, I need to see what you've got. 'Cause _this_, all of this... Is despicable! Every time I see one of you idiots fail on the floor, I get this horrendous taste in my mouth that wants me to puke!'' Her face crunches up in disgust. ''I'm not going to say I'm disappointed...''

'' 'Cause you're not?'' Another student replies.

''No, you bloody fool. Because I never believed in anyone of you.'' Her eyes settle on the intruder. ''And, interrupt me again... And I will make you suffer the consensuses.''

He hears a audible gulp.

''Can she even say that?'' Brittany asks Santana from behind him.

''...But I expected more.'' She continues, looking at Sam.

He can see something flash through her eyes, sparkle along the way before it disappears just as soon as it came.

It didn't look like disappointment, though. So maybe it's, like, happiness?

...Nah, she probably doesn't know what that is.

''Boobs McGee and Twilight.'' She looks at Santana and Tina. ''Come down here and show me what you've got.'' Both girls stand up without hesitation, fearing the wrath of Coach Sylvester if they don't do as is said.

* * *

><p>''You always find a way to amaze me, Sam. And I don't say that very often... Actually, I never really say that.''<p>

''Thank you?''

He's sitting in Coach Sylvester's office. After their lesson she wanted to speak to him. And Sam knows well enough to not disobey when she asks something.

''Your tactics become more and more, _well_ prepared. You knew that, that dancing Asian would've underestimated you too fast. Thinking that you've lost, and you took advantage of that... Well done, Angelina.'' He dislikes the name calling, but fears interrupting her. ''Your motions are becoming faster, your power is harder, more violent...'' She nods. ''With a little more training you can be the best that ever was. ''She sighs, clasping her hands above her desk. ''You even remind me of a young me.''

Okay, what? Was that suppose to be a compliment?

''Of course I'm far more better, and superior then you. So, I can't say you're exactly like me... I'll give you too much credit by saying that.'' He quirks and eyebrow up. ''I just wanted to inform you this... Because it seemed like you were about to defecate yourself when I said that you were battling poorly...''

He waves his hands before him. ''What the- _No._.. No! I wasn't. I totally understand why you had to do that.''

''Don't talk when I'm talking, Angelina.'' She holds up her hand. ''Haven't you learned any manners?'' She rolls her eyes, and he drops his hands on his lap. ''You're a strong boy, Evans. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, and don't let things get to you too fast. I have done that so many times, I'm an expert in things like that.'' She sighs, and he thinks that this is that part were somebody who never seemed to have a soul, is about to share things that's going to make you you judgment about her change. ''Although, I _have_ grown stronger and braver out of it.'' She puts her hand down staring straight through him.

_Wait_, is that even possible?

She sighs again, shutting and reopening her eyes. ''My sister, always told me that we grow stronger out of the battles we preform in life...''

''She seems wise... Where is she now?''

''Dead.''

His face stiffens. ''Sorry, I didn't-''

''Stop being pathetic, Jolie. Sorry is for the weak.''

''_Okay..._'' He swallows. ''How'd she die?''

''I like your fierce, asking me such a crucial, private thing.'' He bites his bottom lip, feeling his cheeks raise up. ''But don't do it again.'' The smile threatening to increase, minimizes straightly. He nods. ''She died during a battle-''

''She fought?''

''What have I said to not punctuate me, you_ fool!_'' She sighs, a frown appearing on her eyebrows. ''She was trying to help me... It was a battle... _My_ battle... But I was... There were many things I had to think about... Wanting to keep my sister save with her state of health she needed my protection, but at the same time I needed to take care of myself.'' She shakes her head, eyes focusing back on him. It's like she's trying to shake the memory out of her mind. ''Just know this Evans.'' She points her finger at him. ''Whatever happens, _don't_ let the one you care about get so close at risking her life, for you...'' She closes her eyes. ''And whatever you do, put your mind away from her.'' Opening them again he spies something shifting in them. ''...And focus at defeating the one who's the malefactor... Because love in battles only leads to death...'' She sighs. ''And mostly, the people who'd die.''

He nods slowly. He knows exactly whats she means, she doesn't have to explain him that.

''And I knew it. I knew what love could do. But I cared so much for Jean.. I needed to protect her. So much, that I lost her.'' She shakes her head. He despises sadness in her tone, water in her eyes.

Sue can... _Cry?_

''I let love get the better of me.'' The frown appears again, a thin line forming on her lips. ''Anyway...'' She sighs. ''Get out of my office. ''

''But... you didn't tell me exactly how she died.''

''Don't push it Angelina, I'm this close at throwing my chair at your worthless face and make you cry and run out of this damn room.'' The once visible sadness leaves her face as the unreadable mask returns.

It's sad though. He kinda liked the Sue that showed emotion the one a person could understand. But this one is just cruel. He can't have sympathy with her like this.

But maybe she doesn't want his sympathy, at all.

He stands up and pushes his chair against her desk. Not sparing a look back before walking (some may say running) out of her office.

He closes the door behind him, walking through the hallway and to his locker. He still has another class, and is already late. Although, his teacher does know that he was conversing with coach Sylvester.

He reaches his locker, dialing in his combination before opening it. He looks inside the space to see which books are needed. He vaguely remembers that his next subject is _'Latin'_. But yet again, he hasn't had History yet, and he always gets it on Tuesday's.

This is one of his reasons to always walk with one of his friends, (preferable Artie). The dude's like a walking schedule.

He sighs, shutting his locker close and walking towards the direction of his class. He finds it strange that he knows which class he has, but not which lesson.

Sam takes his first right, walking down the hallway.

He hears harsh breathing coming from before him, and in the spur of the moment he hides behind one of the walls. He can hear light murmurs and soft footsteps soothing through his ears. When he dares cupping his head to the left to sneak a peak of the person in question, he only manages to see brown curls sweeping along a face.

He can't see him very clearly, the distance is too far part. And Sam knows better then anyone to interfere in another ones business.

But as he sees the young boy take out a small object out of his pocket and fumbling with it slightly, he lets curiosity get the better of him.

With his back against the wall, and his ears pitching up for any noise that could reveal itself, he holds in his breath. Trying to see, out of the corner of his eyes, just what the boy is doing.

The shorter boy appears to click something on the small object. Whereupon a bright light appears, blurring his eyes. He blinks rapidly, cupping his head back ahead and out of sight. It's only now that he hears his own breathing rivet too harsh for a person eavesdropping on a individual.

He pushes his body harder against the wall, his lips forming a tight line. He presses his palms against the wall at his back whilst moving his head, once more to the right. He sees the shorter boy hold the object tightly between his index finger and thumb.

Sam doesn't know why the object seems so familiar to him.

In a swift movement the shorter boy walks the opposite direction of Sam's class. He seems like he's in a hurry, and even though Sam shouldn't be thinking about following a stranger, it's somehow the only thing in his mind.

Besides, he's already late... Arriving a while longer won't make any difference.

He knows he shouldn't be involved with crazy shit like that. But... He's like, _really_ curious.

And likes adventures.

And it's also like, bad ass and all.

Puck always wanted him to do something bad ass and stop being such a pussy. So, he'll just have to prove Puckerman right from wrong, and following this dude will help him achieve that. What if this dude is going to blow up their school with that shiny thing, or what if the dude's up to no good and Sam's the only one who can do something about it?

Moreover, preventing something for happening is better then finding a cure-

_You know..._ He doesn't have too explain himself.

It's not wrong, he's not doing _anything_ wrong.

It's not wrong to eavesdrop.

Or to follow a kid.

Or to hide behind walls to_ follow_ a kid and _eavesdrop_.

It's not wrong. Nope, not at all.

The shorter guy stops at the first empty class he sees. He opens this, and closes it right afterwards.

He takes a blind shot, and hopes for the best as he runs to the closed door. He gazes out of the window, above his head. Standing on his toes a bit to see who's present.

And he nearly chokes on his own saliva.

There, in the middle of the class room, stands creeper, 'le creep. Stalker extravaganza, _Jacob Ben Israel_ holding that little object in his hands. But this time he can see it up close. It's some kind ring with a red button on top of it.

And Sam's even more confident that he's seen that thing before. In one of Mr. Schue's history books.

Jacob presses on the red button, revealing a bright shiny light. Jacob wipes his head to the door and as fast as Sam can, he pulls his head downwards. Yet still managing to hold his ear against the door.

A soft murmur is heard. Followed by a groan.

And damn... He's, probably... Damn.

_Gross._

But as soon as he hears a voice shifting through his ears, he waits expectantly for what will come.

''You're a _failure!_''

''I-I'm sorry.'' Jacob's soft voice responds. ''But- I...'' He sounds really scared. Frightened, even. ''It's not working. I- I can't find nothing.''

''And therefor you are a_ failure! _'' He hears the same voice yell again, Anger explicitly known. ''I don't understand why I even chose you...'' The voice mutters softly.

Sam presses his ears harder against the door.

''I'm sorry, master.'' _Master?_ He should've expected something like that... Jacob was always spineless. ''But, maybe... Don't you think that perhaps... The prophecy could be wrong?'' His voice is small. ''Maybe, it's all wrong... Like, some kind of prank the old people wanted to preform?''

''_No!_ That can't be true... You just have to look better!'' He's confused, now... What are they talking about? ''You will not give up! It's now or never. And I forbid it to be never!''

''What do you expect me to do, my Lord?''

''Search, listen... Keep your eyes open.'' He sighs. ''And don't you dare talk to me again before you have received more information.''

Sam raises his eyebrows, lips parted slightly as the tip of his tongue sticks out. He straightens his back slowly, moving up to his toes. He presses his eyes to slits, trying to look through the glass to see who Jacob could possibly be talking too. Perhaps seeing the persons face could elaborate why the object seemed so familiar to him.

He sees a misty face, eyes dark, face crunched up. He looks old, not entirely human. He kinda has aspects of a creature, yet some features stick out as humane. It looks like a leader, somebody he should be feared.

(And for a moment there, he is scared.)

And the answer is lying on the tip of his tongue. The truth somewhere in his brain, he just needs to crack somethings open before he finds it.

''I will try. I promise.'' Jacob holds the ring tightly, gazing at the misty man before him.

''Trying isn't enough... You have to succeed.''

It's like he feels a presence. It's like the misty man has some kind of trait that signaled him that somebody is watching.

His eyes travel upwards, attaining the glass, looking at it. Looking at _Sam. _His scrunched up face turns into a full blown frown. Eyes darker then before, looking at him. Still looking.

And when look meets look, no one dares to turn away.

''Somebody is there.'' He say's, motioning for the glass where he is standing. And just as Jacob is turning his head, just as Jacob is about to see what he did. And what he knows. He feels like that little spell is broken.

And then he runs.

Like really runs.

Turning corners, running past stairs, ignoring the shouts of teacher calling his name, and passing door after door.

His feet contentious.

He doesn't know how long he's running, or where to. But he comes abruptly to a stop when he feels a body hit his. Causing him to fall flat on his ass.

''Wow, dude! Slow down!'' He moans softly, eyes tightly closed. Holding his butt to feel if it's still intact. ''You have to watch where you're going.''

Sam gazes up, his blueish eyes connecting with green emeralds. ''Puck? What... Why... Aren't you suppose to be in class?''

Puck frowns as he moves down to Sam's eye height and helps him up. ''I'm Puck... You ever saw me going to class?''

''Yeah... Not willingly... But still.''

''But not math.''

Oh yeah, that's what his next class was. Math.

''You've got a point.''

''So...'' Puck looks him up and down. ''Wanna tell me what happened, 'cause that shit.'' He points at his self. ''Bumping into me. 'Ts not cool.''

Sam shakes his head, not even precisely knowing what had happened. Well, yeah he does. But he doesn't know exactly what to make out of it. It's like, Jacob is stepping to the bad side, _willingly._ And he's enjoying it too.

And that shit, is wrong.

''It's nothing.'' He shrugs it off, thinking about a good excuse... Let's see, Quinn Fabray stalking, Mr. Schue talking... Sue Sylvester delaying...

Oh yeah, he forgot about that one.

It's like the truth, only part of it. ''Coach Sylvester was talking_ way_ to long for her own good.'' He smiles. ''It took a bit longer then I expected.''

''So you ran?''

''Didn't want to come late.'' He shrugs nonchalantly.

''Hmm... Okay. If you say so...'' Puck turns around, motioning for Sam to follow him. ''You where totally bad ass when you were fighting, though. So don't take that shit what Sylvester said too seriously.'' Yeah, well thanks. She kinda did say good things about him.

''I appreciate it... Never thought I would hear you say those words to me.'' Sam grins as they walk side by side towards the nurse office. The average door slightly on a crack. Puck undoubtedly must've came from there.

''Did you just come out of the nurse office?''

''Yeah... Why?''

''It's open.'' He gestures to the slightly open door. ''Why are you walking here anyway?''

He knows that keeping this meaningless conversation going is just a camouflage to suppress any thoughts of Jacob, misty dude, and creepy shits.

(But honestly, he knows that afterwards, he'll just roll back to the start, until he just can't handle the unanswered questions anymore and starts looking for some real answers to quite down his mind.)

''I was tired from lying there, I just felt the need to walk for a bit, stretch my legs and all. 'Cause sitting in a small room like that one can really do something to you, make you feel, like, light headed and all, weak or tired, I guess.'' Puck spoke in such a rush, Sam could barely understand what he was saying.

Puck shakes his head, eyes focused on the nursing room. ''You deserve it, too... Y'know. A compliment...'' He smirks. ''It's probably the only bad ass you will ever do in your life time.'' He nudges Sam with his shoulder. ''You're too much of a goody two-shoes to do anything whack.''

He rolls his eyes. ''Probably...''

So, that whole eavesdropping, and being, probably the only one who knows that Jacob is evil in disguise, does that, like, put him a rank higher into becoming a bad ass?


	6. Chapter 6

**Full Blood**

**AU.**

**No, I don't own glee.**

**Summary: A school for half bloods. Creatures whom are strong, brave, sagacious, vindictive yet purposeful, the essence of power. And then there are myths, tales that are as old as time.**

**6. When evil whispers the mind goes still  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Run.<p>

Ever since she was little she has been told that fairy tales don't exist. That magic is just something that a person made up so little childern could have that little bit of fixation that whenever bad things happen to them, they would always have magic to protect themselves. That abrasive sentiment which could make them feel a tiny bit saver, even braver. It's like this confidence booze that's just needed to break away that undeniable fear. In someway, believing that magic truthfully exist should work as an advantage for young childern, help them grow up. Help them realize that even if there's bad roaming planet earth, there's still good lurking at the corners. The disadvantage, though, means that everything else that has been written in fairy tales has to be true, too. Like monsters and demons, and good and evil. Like dark powers and bad wizards, poison apples and betrayal.

When she grew older she figured out that in someway magic _does_ exist, but it doesn't come in the form of shiny light and deathly powers, or unknown spells and glowing features. But it comes in the sense of believe and hope and trust. Just like monsters and demons come in the sense of bullies, rapist and murders. In some kind of way fairy tales helped her realize that the outside world really is some sort of a cruel place with death around the corners and monstrous killers disguised as smiley neighbors. She believed as time passed by, that the things that happened to a person, the unexplainable deaths of the young ones and the torture a innocent child had to endure, was just a way of being prepared for the future.

It seemed like a logic explanation. Even her fathers told her that she had taken a step closer to adultery hood. The smile she send their way, the corners that curled up around her lips, where her way of showing gratitude.

But now, at the age of sixteen years old, with her eyes staring into evil. She wonders if her thoughts were indeed right.

Were fairy tales really a way of helping her walk through the numerous of obstacles she has to endure in her life? Is it indeed true that the stories are just tools preparing her for the big world? If it is so, how does she - when the time comes and evil is out to get her - protect herself? She can't use her trust in times like these, or her believe that one day they would all suffer and regret the things that they have done to her. She can't hope that everything will turn out right as time goes by, because those are just empty sentiments. They exceed only out of air.

How does she hurt them as much as they have done to her? How does she protect herself when they attack?

''Thought you wouldn't see as again, didn't you?''

She takes a step back, knowing that in no way possible can she protect herself against their rage. They may have weapons that they could use to get her to fall, their fists could be strong enough to break her apart, and all she has is believe, trust and hope.

And that just doesn't cut it anymore.

Azimio takes in turn a step forward. ''Thought that we would be gone.''

She shakes her head, pleading them to stay put. Her hand fists along her side, and her jaw unconsciously tightens. She fears for the worst.

Her mouth barley manages to release out a silent stop, but they won't listen. She should've known, though. Nobody ever listens to her pleads or her tears or the way she beg and begs for them to quit their hurtful actions. She's just air to them, just blowing along their faces. She can't be seen, she can't be heard, yet in someway they manages to pollute her.

She's just_ air_.

''Wanna play, _princess?_''

Her mind screams one simple word;_ 'Run'_, that needs to be preformed. And she may have told herself, every time she got a chance to be alone, that she would never under any circumstances give her bullies the joy to see her run, to see her scared. Yet, this time she has to fail herself.

She turns around making a quick escape to her car. She doesn't dare to turn her head around, she doesn't dare to look in the eyes of her tormentors. She fears that if she sees their eyes or faces, that something in her will give in or give up and she's going to lose a battle that she never wanted to fight. Lately all her battles come unilateral her way.

Her hand touches the handle of her car, and for a moment there she finally feels relieve sipping through her bones. It's a slight moment that she thinks that hope has specified. But as soon as she tries opening it, a large hand collides with her door. She gets jerked forward and her hand slips away from the handle limply. Her breath leaves her lips in a wisp, and it's like he crushed her hope all together.

Massive hands grab her upper arms, turning her around and pinning her against her door.

She lets out a yelp.

''Where do you think you're going, little _star_?'' She shuts her eyes tightly, ignoring Karofsky's grunts. Wishing that it all could just end. ''Look at me!'' She doesn't want to, she doesn't dare.

_'Look at him.'_

But this pressure her mind releases to her hearing, forces her to obey.

''That's it.''

When her eyes see his, she feels her breathing get halted in her throat. His eyes are this color black that she's only seen in her dreams, his face is this inhumanely presences that awakens this alert within her. She's in a life and death situation, and Rachel's simply not ready to die. ''Please, let me go.'' She would've never thought that even in a million years her lips would betray her and tell her tormentors a;_ please_. In her mind and in her heart, she has always told herself that cruel beings like them don't deserve an ounce of her respective behavior.

She failed herself.

(Lately she's been failing herself repeatedly.)

''Are you scared?''

They're enjoying it. Smelling her fear. At the edge of tasting her salty tears. They love seeing her suffer, they love seeing her crumple beneath their fingers.

And hearing from her tongue that she indeed fears them, would put that stamp _happy_ on the card.

She won't give them the satisfaction.

''Look at me!'' She feels his nails dig into her cheeks as he viciously turns her head to face him. When the claws of his fingers dig deeper into her skin, she obliges and looks in his eyes. ''And you thought that we wouldn't know.''

_Wouldn't know what?_ ''Please let me go.''

But they don't listen, and her back gets pushed against the car even harder. With one swift movement he slams her head against the window of her car, as the glass shatters all around her head. It's one mere lethal action, that has her slipping in and out of consciousness.

''Y... we... _know...''_

She can barely hear him. She can barely make out the laughter both of them share, she can barely hear the words leaving his lips. She can barely see their faces, barely see his black eyes. Her eyes snap close, and re-open every single time her hearing picks up on the tune of their voices. But the noises they produce and the sting of his hand around her neck isn't enough to keep her awake.

''Answer me!''

He slaps her, and her head hits the side of her car. _Harder_. His actions indicate that he's angrier. But for the life of her she can't understand why.

His fingers dig in her throat. His nails drawing out blood. Her once heavy eyelids snap open, her tired hands moving to his. Holding him vastly, trying to push him off. But he's too strong and she's not capable of preforming anything anymore.

She can only cough.

Azimio looks on completely shocked, abruptly stopping with laughing. ''You're killing her dude!'' He tries stopping Karofsky, holding him onto his shoulders. ''We need her!'' But he doesn't listen and his fingers dig in deeper, her hands aren't strong enough to push him away and Azimio's voice of reason-guilt-regret-whatever he's feeling now, doesn't help either. Her nails scratch and pinch, her mouth releases cough after coughs, but he doesn't listen, he doesn't care. He looks on angry, and his fingers narrate his rage.

Something leaves his hand, it's dark and cold and it makes her sick all together. It mingles with the hand around her neck and shoots something painfully destructive down her throat.

She cries out.

''Stop dude!''

Her hands become limp, her eyes retracting, and when she feels that destructive aching feeling hit her chest, she finally blacks out.

_'You dare give up? They did this to you, Rachel!'_

Rachel never expected to die a viscous death so young. She never expected that her time would come so soon. She firstly saw herself in bright lights with her name everywhere on billboards in cinemas, her face on the small screen and in theaters. She saw herself being stalked by paparazzi, and fans asking for her autograph everywhere she went. She saw herself needing a bodyguard because of the large quantity of people wanting to be in her presences. She saw herself, firstly as a newly born star, rather then living six feet under.

_'They're trying to end your life...'_

Rachel never, not even in the years that would come, thought that she would die in a way that not even a suicidal child could think of. She never thought that she would be attacked by her bullies - who in turn - aren't even humane.

_Something deep within her snarls._

And perhaps it's enough to anger her, too.

_'They need to pay, Rachel... All of them need to pay.'_

And that's why, when she hears this thing talk to her, she finds herself asking a 'how', instead of claiming that one day they'll regret it, she finds herself at the point of no return, at the point that she would do anything to prove the unbelievers of her talent, wrong.

When the voice answers with a_; 'Kill 'm'. _She feels the need to obey.

* * *

><p>It's a sight that she never expected to see in her years of living. It's sight she only expected to withhold during the apocalypse, or at one of those moments that a cruel Demon had forced her to respond monstrous. It's a sight that has her stomach churn her throat clench in and eyes to be forced to turn an blind eye.<p>

She can't look anymore, but the brown haired girl standing measures away, has lead her to force that nauseating feeling down and move forward.

Shannon's scared, to say the least. She doesn't even dare to move closer to the young girl. She's afraid to witness her up close, to really see that the girl she's known so long has really done a deed so sick, the Devil would have had trouble keeping his lunch down. But as she sees the darkness leaving Rachel in waves, and the two students lying on the ground, blood seeping from their heads, their insides out of their respective body, she knows that Rachel needs her now more then ever. Even if she doesn't know it herself.

It takes a gulp of air, and her hands clenched into fists, before she moves over to her hunched over body. Rachel's brown hair hanging over her face like a curtain, her fingers trailing little lines of blood on a student's cheek.

Whenever she steps closer and closer, Shannon beholds that something's different with her. ''Rachel.'' The young girl doesn't stop her finger movement. Still tracing his cheekbone. It takes all the courage Shannon has to withhold herself from taking the girl in her arms. ''What have you done?''

She doesn't answer.

And it's then that Shannon knows that this isn't the Rachel she knows.

It's something else.

Another step closer, another intake of breath. ''What happened?''

Her fingers finally stop. And when Shannon takes her posture in she sees this black aura hovering around her body that dims of the light of her soul, she sees this lost little girl who's at the same time angry on the world. And if the streaks of blood, the dead bodies lying limp on the ground and the slight cracks beneath Rachel's feet weren't any titillation that she was the malefactor, one would even feel sorry for her.

''They deserved it.'' Rachel's voice sounds different, a different tone, a different sound. ''They deserved to die.'' Shannon should've prevented this. She should've been faster, she should've iterate the spell long ago. She's too late now. ''Evil _needs _to die.''

She wonders who has put that sentence in her mind; _good_ or_ evil_. ''And what are you, Rachel?'' She swallows, daring to take a few steps closer. When she sees how hostile Rachel's body suddenly becomes, she pulls her chin up high and stops in her tracks. ''You're no good either.'' Rachel's jaw tightens. Shannon knows that what she's doing can take two paths; or she manages to get through to the changing girl or she takes Shannon as a threat and attacks. Shannon's ready for whatever to come. ''This is not_ you._..'' She doesn't know if her words would work, but there's no harm in trying.

_Right? _

''And you know me?'' Rachel snarls. ''You hid this from me!''

Shannon cocks her eyebrows up, pursing her lips. ''How did you-''

Rachel's laughter cuts her off. And the once musical sound of her laughs can't be traced anywhere, anymore. ''You're not even trying to deny it.'' Rachel finally stands up, slowly. Turning around to meet Shannon's eyes. ''You kept _this _from me.''

What has she really hidden from her? The truth about who she is, or the fact that something else can take control over her and make her do things without her even knowing? How are her words a lie, if Rachel has never asked her about her roots? Shannon shakes her head, taking a deep breath as she look back at her integral black eyes. Wondering when her brown orbs had disappeared. ''You shouldn't have done this, Rachel. This is just a newly made _orifice _for them to get to you.''

_''Silents!''_

Rachel's lost, she can see this. And suddenly, she's not afraid anymore. ''I was trying to protect you, from _this_. I was trying to prevent you from becoming like this.''

_''Liar!''_

''Look at you now!'' She searches Rachel's face, trying to find any aspect that she's still there. She finds none. ''I tried to protect you from this. From turning into a-a...'' Dare she say it? Dare she say what Rachel's become? She looks pale, dark eyes mixing with her achromatic skin._ ''Monster_.'' Rachel's lips are a thin fine line, her black dispassionate eyes looking back. ''Listen to me Rachel... This isn't you.'' She steps closer, and Rachel takes one step back. ''You're better then this. So, I beg you, don't let _him_ get to you.''

_''Don't_ come any closer!''

''Look what you've done...'' She quickly glances over the place, withholding the urge to throw up. ''Look what you've become!''

''Why didn't you tell me!''

She takes another step closer. ''Look into your heart Rachel. Don't listen to _him_, don't make _him_ win.''

''Stay away!''

''Don't become like your father.''

A shift of evil shoots through her eyes, it moves fast, but Shannon catches it nonetheless. _''Liar!'' _Her hand raises as a beam of darkness leaves her palm. Untouched skin delivering a black bulk of darkness. The impact hits Shannon square on the chest, as the wall becomes her intercept.

Even if her lips reveal themselves of a scream, even if a biting ache shoots through her back, even if she can see the world spinning around her as her unconsciousness consumes her alive. Shannon still after all, doesn't blame Rachel for anything.

Because it's just_ not _her fault.


End file.
